Gasoline
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: This could - ridiculous and embarrassing as it was, prove to be interesting - and fabulous blackmail material. But will everything go Izaya's way? ShIzaya. M for language, drug and drink abuse, and well, just in case. R&R, I'd be grateful. Ongoing. UPDATED 30/04
1. One

_"I think you know, tonights the night, _

_I'm gonna touch you, taste you, tease you, show you,_

_What I've been waiting for._

_

* * *

_

**A.N**: Don't be suprised if I don't finish this. Studies and work are overloading me.

* * *

"This isn't hatred," I was saying to no one in particular, as Shizuo wasn't listening to me.

The alcohol and nicotine on his breath was making me feel close to vomiting all over his pristine (yet creased) white shirt. I hated cigarettes. I hated alcohol. For the first time ever, I couldn't run away. I was totally cornered, _literally_. I made the mistake of being chased into a narrow alleyway, with the intention of sending Shizuo (for his IQ level was barely above that of a dogs) on a sniffing hunt after something or someone else. To make him think he'd caught me, but couldn't be further from hope.

As always, really. Which is why I let my confidence get the better of me. I hadn't realised Shizuo was intoxicated. So heavily drunk, that he wasn't even comprehending my words, just trying to crush my head into the pavement. It hurts my ego to admit that I actually felt a flit of fear; for one small moment I considered that tonight, may just be the night, that I died. It'd be all over the newspapers the next morning, Shizuo would finally have wiped out Orihara Izaya.

But it'd grown from that. I'd done my best to duck and dodge his clumsy punches, his heart was in it, but not his head. A thick set of knuckles made contact with my left eye, and I could feel it swelling almost instantly. There was a sudden small hope at an exit; his arm went a little too high and I slid down the wall, with the intention of dashing under his outstretched arms, but he caught me and dragged me back up again. That's when it went weird. His teeth were on my neck, and it _hurt_, amongst other wild feelings that I wasn't going to allow myself to admit to. His hands were on the wall either side of me, trapping me, no means of escape. I wasn't going to embarrass myself by _struggling_, but words seemed to be flying right over his brainless head. His head was on my shoulder, and I couldn't think of another time when Shizuo was _this close to me_, without actually inflicting some kind of serious injury - or attempting to, I generally got away unscathed. I could literally dodge a bullet, but this was just embarrassing. He was sucking at my neck in the most brutal fashion, like it was a lifeline. His cold - fucking freezing - hand was slithering up the front of my shirt, and I winced, pressing myself further into the wall. There was no point trying to dissuade him; words were lost.

"Shizuo!" A voice from somewhere along the alleyway yelled.

Oh, of course, he'll turn around for Tom. "Huh?" He grunted unattractively, then pulled away from me, like he'd been molesting a skunk, and shot off clumsily down the alley.

I rubbed the back of my head, and stared after the blonde, smirking. This could - ridiculous and embarrassing as it was, prove to be interesting - and fabulous blackmail material.


	2. Two

_"The other day I had to stop and think, _

_& boy I love the way you get to me."_

_

* * *

_

Yagiri Namie couldn't have been more annoying the day following. It was a Sunday, but she was still insistant upon staying here, in my house.

"It's your day off, Namie-san!" I grumbled from the couch. "In fact, it's the weekend, so you've had two days off. But you still have to stay here, cluttering up my place." I sighed, and put a hand over my left eye. Waking up with such a huge, swollen black bruise had put me in even more of a bad mood than I already was, more for the sake of my appearance than the pain. How was I supposed to ruin lives and have people take me seriously, if I was strutting the streets of Ikebukuro with a black eye and the swollen patches of skin on my neck, where Shizuo's teeth had made unkind contact. I looked like a soppy slut, victim of domestic abuse.

"But you're injured," Namie was saying, from somewhere which sounded far away. I snapped my head in her direction. I would've been suprised to see any sympathy in her expression. Fortunately, I wasn't suprised, as the look of _gloating _was evident across her features. She loved this. I hissed some meaningless insult at her, as she placed a steaming mug off coffee in front of me. "And seeing you look like this is just _far _too good an opportunity to miss out on. You've got hickey's all over you. Who was it you were with again? I can't believe a girl would be able to throw a punch that hard on you." She uttered a very high-pitched laugh, the sound running right through me. She was trying to trick me into telling her who it was.

"It's none of your business," I muttered. "You're not paid to put any of your undying attention into my personal life."

"Maybe it wasn't a girl," Namie leaned back on her desk chair, putting her arms over her head. "Maybe it was a guy. I've always thought you were a bit on that side."

I closed my eyes. She was just a fly, waiting to be swatted.

"Well, whoever it was, you've embarrassed yourself good and proper. You're not going to be able to leave this building again until you've cleared yourself up."

Choosing to further ignore her, I leaned over to reach my coffee. It only spent a mere five seconds on the table top before the smell of it hit my nostrils, I flung it off the desk automatically. It shattered on the wooden floor, a great, milky brown puddle spreading where it had landed. Namie stared at me, dumfounded.

"I only invested in decaff for you and your pointless diets!" I shrieked, suprising myself. "So why have you given it to me?" I put a hand over my mouth, closing my eyes, and leaning back on the couch.

"You're such a bitch, Orihara-san," Namie rolled her eyes, standing up.

"Go away," I moaned. This embarrassment was killing me. "I don't want you here."

"Did something bad happen last night, or something?" Namie sounded serious, now. Like she actually gave a shit. Ha. "You seem...upset."

"I have a fucking huge black eye!" I yelled. "Of course something bad happened; I was punched in the face!"

"But why? What did you do to piss them off?"

I nearly spewed out 'Heiwajima Shizuo', but I stopped myself just in time. She'd immediately link it to the bruising on my neck, and, caring or not, she'd never let me live it down. I wouldn't be suprised an entirely fictional story went out, describing some kind of sick, abusive relationship between Shizuo and myself.

I cringed at the thought.

Though, it did seem a little forced.

"Just go away," I muttered. "Why do you have to stay here all the time, eating my food and drinking my coffee? I pay you to work for me, not for the company. I don't need your wretched irratating company." Then I stopped replying to her. I kept my eyes closed until I was sure the door had shut behind her, and I stood up, and looked around the empty apartment.

It was nice to have the place - my place - to myself. I'd almost forgotten that I actually pay the full rent. In fact, I'd almost forgotten that it _was _my home.

What could I do, now that I was free of sarcastic comments and her annoying female presense looming around me. She was like a damned housewife.

I could go out. I laughed that idea off almost instantly. Though, it would be amusing to see the look on Shizuo's face if I turned up on his side of town, looking like I did.

No. It'd be amusing for a mere five minutes, before the tiny heads of the human public strung together the ones and twos. Shizuo would probably never, never give up after that, to try and kill me. He'd be at my door every day with a garbage can and malice in his eyes. My chances of surviving in the Izaya vs. Shizuo life would probably be reduced.

"I hate you," I groaned, flopping back down on the sofa. It was past lunchtime by now, and the bright white of the winter sun was streaking through the big windows. It was cold, but I was still in my bedclothes; cotton leggings and nothing else. I pulled my knees up to my chest and gazed into nothingness.

How boring.

Then my cellphone started ringing.


	3. Three

_"I'm crawling away, cause the stress has killed me,_

_I feel like I fell from a ten storey building."_

_

* * *

_**A.N**: Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews and story favourites/alerts! Really prompted me to continue.

There will be more...action...eventually. I just don't want to speed up into this. Thanks again; enjoy.

* * *

I was so _bored_, that I'd picked up the phone without even checking the number, to see who would bother to call me on a Sunday.

"Hell-"

"ORIHARA!" Screeched a heedy, low voice down the phone. For a moment, I thought it was Shizuo, except that Shizuo rarely used my surname. Plus he didn't know my cellphone number. Another plus, he definitely didn't seem to strike me as the clever type, to think of picking up the phone and starting an argument. He'd just come and throw something heavy and dangerous through my window.

"Good afternoon, Orihara Izaya speaking. Unfortunately you've reached me on a Sunday, which I deem as my off-day, but fortunately for you, I'm bored."

"Where's my money?"

I was disappointed. Of course. Mafia dealings. How could I forget.

"What is your name again?"

"Where's my money?"

"I have no idea what your talking about." Sometimes, lying was an easier way to get out of some tricky situations.

"I'm going to kill you! I'm going to come right into Shinjuku now and kill-"

"Do you know where I live?" I looked out onto the busy road below my apartment, feeling a smirk downing on my face.

"No, but-"

"Well, it doesn't look like I'll be leaving the confinities of my house today, and, unfortunately for you, I don't plan on dying anytime soon. See you~" I pressed the red button on the cellphone, then sighed. That conversation had ended far too soon for my liking. It rang again, once, but there was no point in answering (I wanted to keep my eardrums, and Mr Mafia shouted all too loudly), so it went straight onto the answering machine.

"Izaya-kun, come out and play."

I flinched so abrubtly that I almost fell off the couch. Leaning over, I pressed the green button hastily. "Hello?"

"ORIHARA!"

Hanging up, I sighed. I must've imagined it.

* * *

It was late at night, and I had my hood pulled high over my head, so it was unlikely anyone could see the bruising on _any_ part of me. The rain was coming down by the bucketfull, but I had to see a doctor. An _undergound _doctor. I smiled to myself.

I banged on the door of Shinra's apartment. The rider answered. I grinned under my hood.

"_What's wrong with your eye?_" Read her PDA.

I groaned and pulled my hood down. There was no point hiding anything from her. "I want to see Shinra."

She 'looked' over her shoulder briefly, then seemed to pause for a moment, to think of what to write next, I presumed. "_Shinra's in the shower right now, Orihara-san_."

I distinctly heard a loud blast of off-tune singing.

"Then I'll wait." I didn't walk all the way over from Shinjuku because I enjoyed the rain. I pushed past Celty before she could finish typing her message, and busted right into the bathroom.

"Celty-san!" Shrieked Shinra. I blinked at the naked silouhette in the shower. He giggled like a loonatic. "Honestly, at least knock before you decide to come waltzing in to seduce-oh." He had turned around, and pressed his face up against the glass.

What seemed like _hours _later, Shinra arrived in the living room, where I'd been sat in an awkward silence with Celty. Well, I'd just seen her boyfriend naked, and with as much knowledge as deciphering the expressions of someone without a face, I deemed she was pretty pissed off.

"What's wrong with your eye?" He asked.

"Obviously, someone punched me."

"Is that why you're here?"

"No."

"Then, what can I do for you, Izaya-kun?"

"I just thought I'd...pop by." I was lying of course. "And I wondered if I could get something for a headache. The docs rarely let me prescribe any medication after the last time."

The last time. Urgh. We'll get to that later.

"Well, I'm kind of busy right now, so-" he stopped when Celty turned her body in his direction. He seemed to take it as a gesture to shut up.

"Busy?" I cocked an eyebrow.

"I have a patient in the back room. Came in last night after what I can only decide was a scuffle. Fell over in the rain and spiked himself on the mini fencing around the gardens by the park. His boss brought him back."

"Interesting." It wasn't interesting at all, I was barely listening.

"Yeah. If he wasn't so strong and built with such a powerful defence system I-" Celty punched him hard in the side. "Ow!"

I stared blankly at the pair of them. "Strong?" The word rolled slowly off my tongue. "Powerful?" Carefully, my brain began knitting together an explanation. "What time did he come in?"

"Oh, I don't know," Shinra was ignoring Celty's advances now, like she wasn't even there. "About half past eleven, I guess. Very drunk he was. Moaning about something he'd done that was going to ruin his life. We were just getting ready for bed, and - Izaya, where are you going?"

He had to be joking. Couldn't I go anywhere without running into him? I threw the door of Shinra's tiny, makeshift hospital, and glared at the lanky blonde laid on top of the white sheets, my hand frozen on the doorframe. Shinra crashed into my back. "Izaya-kun, you can't come in here without permission. He needs rest, and is only allowed guests at certain times of the-"

"Shut the fuck up Shinra, this isn't a real hospital," groaned the figure on the bed. He sat up (much to Shinra's distaste) and started rubbing his temples with one hand, and started pulling at the bandages around his chest. The drip in his arm held him back, and he yanked it with such force, that the needle split the skin in a long slit right down his forearm, and scarlet blood began to seep out, across the pristine sheets. He swore profusely, even though I knew he wouldn't really be able to feel the effect of the cut.

He hadn't noticed me yet. Hadn't told me he was going to kill me, hadn't made any sudden lurches or movements to grab my throat or my shirt or my head. He wasn't acknowledging my presence, or even paying attention to me at all. He glanced in my direction, and I fell right into those icy eyes, but he was staring right through me, at Shinra.

Wow. So this is what it felt like to be non-existant?

"Shizuo!" Shinra darted past me, and started trying to patch up his arm, and replace the drip, but Shizuo batted him off. "I don't need that damned thing."

"You were stabbed last night, Shizuo," Shinra muttered, but didn't pursue it.

"By a garden fence! I feel fine, if it wasn't for this hangover. I need a cig."

"No smoking until your fifteen-hour period is over," announced Shinra. Shizuo ignored him, and clambered off the bed, heading towards the door; towards me. I glared up at him, determined to make him notice me. I wasn't about to be ignored.

"Move, Flea," he grunted, looking over my head. I continued to keep my unwavering, unblinking stare on him, until he turned his face down to me.

Ouch. Sparks. I didn't expect the gaze to lock so tightly. I didn't think I wouldn't be able to keep my sinful smirk on my features. Instead, I couldn't pull my gaze from his, I was sinking right down into those stormy blue pools. I twisted my eyes away, groaning, and stepped aside, feeling like someone had punched me in the stomach. Shizuo strode straight past me, and out of the door, still shirtless, still with blood dripping down his arm.

"Izaya?" Shinra looked at me questioningly.

"I don't know," I muttered, and I disappeared too.


	4. Four

_"Lets make this moment worth the while,_

_Let's kill the night and go down in style."_

* * *

**A.N**: Hopefully there shall be no more spelling mistakes! Maybe a few (or more than a few .) grammatical errors, but I try my best. R&R! :)

* * *

For two weeks, I stalked the streets of Ikebukuro like a rat, from dawn until dusk, determined to try and encounter Shizuo. I wanted to see him again, to meet eyes with him again, to make sure that what had happened two weeks previously, would _not _happen again. The electricity, the sparking, was the kind of thing which happened between lovers, not moral enemies. I was angry at myself for not knowing what he was going to do, if he was going to do anything at all. I'd spent years being able to predict all of Shizuo's moves right down to the last notch, always five steps ahead of him, completely convinced he would play right into the palms of my outstretched hands. But these past two weeks, I'd lost my guard. I was forever looking over my shoulders, terrified that inanimate objects, three times my size, were going to be hurtling towards me, into my unaware back. I couldn't live on this verge of uncertainty.

The effect Shizuo was leaving imprinted on me was making it difficult to play my games with anyone else. I daydreamed for a full hour, and only just managed to duck and run from a punch (the Mafia member who had called me a fortnight ago), briefly sparing myself another black eye. I ran and ran and ran and ran, until my lungs physically repelled me from going any further.

I ended up outside a bold-coloured store, which I used to be certain was my best friend. _Last time_. The bottles upon bottles of alcohol glinted in the winter sun. Glassy greens and reds and blues. I pressed my palm against the window.

One, maybe two, wouldn't hurt. I could go home now, make a night of it, kick Namie out. Let myself loose in the welcoming dizziness, maybe even call up the dealer I made such a good customer of-

-I let go of the window, staggering back and stumbling on the curb of the sidewalk. No. No. Never again. Not after last time.

I messed myself up.

"Izaya!" A voice, directly in my ear, shocked me back to reality. I turned around and glared at him, and he instantly wiped the look of amusement (it took a lot to make me jump like that) off his face.

"Shinra," I muttered, preparing myself for the lecture. Of course, it came.

"What are you doing here? Surely you're not contemplating purchasing anything from this store, Izaya? After last time? You _do _remember last time, Izaya? It was hell for Celty and I as well, you know, being unable to sleep for seventy-two hours, because we were so determined to keep you alive. If you go back to what you were, you might not be so lucky to have someone to find up and bring you to the hospital again! You might not get a second chance! You're still not properly fixed now, are you?" I rolled my eyes as Shinra grabbed my wrist and held it up between us.

I was _thin_, there was no denying that. The bones in my wrist were sharp against my skin, and my pulse was visible behind the web of bright blue veins. But I wasn't what I used to be. I did eat. When I was hungry. Which, truthfully, wasn't too often. I was always too busy to bother cooking, and most products made me feel physically sick. But I did eat.

I pulled my arm out of Shinra's grip, and shoved my hands back into my pockets. "Spare it, Shinra. I thought about it, but decided against it before you even started on one, so relax."

Shinra narrowed his eyes behind his spectacles. "_Why _were you thinking about it? Are you depressed? Because it's bad enough dealing with one potential alcoholic-"

"-I'm fine. Just bored."

"Hm. Well. Do the right thing, Izaya-kun," he made to leave, holding his palm up in goodbye.

"Wait!"

"..?" Shinra raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Just out of interest - because all I can think about is when my next potential death-date is…have you seen Shizu-chan around recently? The whole district of Ikebukuro is unusually tidy without his malformations." I grinned. Of course, Shinra being Shinra, and without Celty here to cut him short, he'd tell me anything. He was certain, that underneath all the hate, Shizuo and I were privately the best of friends.

"Oh, Shizuo-san?" Shinra shook his head, looking disappointed. "I suspect he's going through a tough time at the moment. He rarely leaves his apartment, and every time I go up to see if he's okay, he's drunk."

"You go up to see if he's okay?" I sneered, but Shinra remained utterly, deadpan serious.

"I already nearly lost one friend through drug abuse and alcohol poisoning, Izaya," he replied quietly. "I don't want the same thing to happen to another."

I stared at him in silence. I couldn't come up with a decent comeback. "So…what's he like when you go up there?" I opted for the 'caring' approach. "Do you take medicine or confiscate his alcohol?"

"I try…" Shinra sighed, swallowed, and pulled on his collar. For half an hour, I stood and listened intently as Shinra babbled. It turned out, that the doctor had visited Shizuo every other night, but last night had been the most problematic. He'd been smoking something that wasn't tobacco, and he'd drunk enough to fill a party of twenty-five adults. Shinra had tried to clear up the mess that Shizuo had single-handedly made, and then attempted to insist that he went back to his house for treatment, and have his stomach pumped of all the toxins, but Shizuo got so angry that he put his fist through the TV set as he tried to hurl it at Shinra. "I only just got out in time," Shinra explained, "but I noticed it first."

"Noticed what?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing.

"His face, and his expression. He was so gaunt, hollow, and empty-looking. The sparkle in his eye has gone. He's just…all…monotone," Shinra frowned, looking thoughtful. "I don't know. He reminded me of…just the look in his face…he was so like…"

I waited for the inevitable.

"Like you did," Shinra sighed, seemingly defeated. "He just looked exactly like you did. And he's so much physically stronger than you. He's not weakening, because he's still eating, but the substance abuse is killing off his brain cells -"

"- what little brain cells he has left -"

"- he doesn't' know what he's doing, he could kill me-hey."

"Hey?" I repeated.

"You could go up and see him."

I shook my head. I was shaking it before he even started the sentence; I knew what was coming. "No way. If he tried to kill you he'll waste no time in running me through with a broken bottle."

"But think of all the countless fights you two have had. You've escaped without a bruise!"

His emphasis on 'always' reminded me of that night, two weeks ago. The only night I escaped covered in far more bruises than I deemed acceptable. I shook the memory out of my mind. "Yes, but it's different when he's drunk."

"Surely not more dangerous for the person who can literally dodge a bullet," Shinra grinned toothily.

I didn't respond.

"Please, Izaya!" Shinra begged. "You've been through what he might be going through! He'll _listen _to you!"

"Are we talking about the same Shizu-chan? He hates me!"

"Please, Izaya. You don't want him to die, do you?"

"Well, actually, now that you mention-"

"Izaya!"

"It's not like he didn't want the same thing while I was on my deathbed!" I shot back hotly.

"Actually, no. There were plenty of opportunities he had to pull the plug on your life support machine."

"Because that would've been too easy," I snapped. "Not to mention I would've died on my own accord. Shizuo doesn't just want me _dead_, he wants me _murdered_, and he wants to be the murderer. Don't you get it? The years of chasing me around would've been a complete waste of time if it's not him who puts the bullet in my mouth."

"Do something good for once in your life-"

"Fine!" I hissed, and turned away. I'll call on him this afternoon."

Shinra looked like he could have kissed me, so I backed away before he could do anything weird. He called after my conveniently deaf ears. "You won't regret it, Izaya-kun!"

* * *

I had to admit, as I stood outside the tall, grey block of flats, I was interested. But I was also confused. Why would Shizuo do what he was doing to himself? He'd seen firsthand how it had affected me. He was always far stupid to throw himself away in such a common manner, and, always the good guy, Shizuo valued others far over himself. He knew that the levels of crime in Ikebukuro would rise considerably if with Heiwajima Shizuo out of the picture.

So, why?

I was also…and it was like a knife through my pride to admit it…worried. What if he _was _in the position I'd landed myself in? What if he'd ruined himself beyond repair, like me, unable to eat more than once a day, unable to sleep at night because I was alone. I wouldn't wish my problems and pains on anyone, not even Shizuo.

Those feelings were enough to set me up the first flight of stairs.


	5. Five

_"I'm not one for the crowd to see; _

_It's just me."_

* * *

**A.N**: Omg, a longer chapter!

* * *

My lungs ached, and my bones screamed with agony, when I finally reached the topmost floor. Fourteen flights of pain.

Of course, there was a lift, but it looked like it was ready to collapse. Also, I'd had a bad experience when I was younger, which included my sisters, and several important wires being cut (sending me hurtling to the ground at breakneck speed, my body hitting the ceiling when it finally made contact with earth). Even after that, the doors remained firmly jammed shut. It took them nearly three hours to get me out; I haven't been in an elevator since. I still wonder how on earth my sisters managed to do it.

I stared at the rusty numerals on the chipped sheen of the door. How many times had I been all the way up here, with the intent of driving Shizuo out of his flat for the means of my own amusement? Never, ever, did I think that I'd waste my sorry time sloping up stairs upon stairs to _check on him_.

I raised my fist and rapped three times on the door; two short knocks and one loud. I waited.

And waited. No noise. No stirring. I counted to twenty in my head, and knocked again. Two short, one loud. Straightened my back, smoothed my posture, ready to flee if he appeared with an item of furniture. No noise, no stirring. No one propped their eye against the spy hole.

This time, I counted to forty, and knocked once more (two short, one long). It was possible that he'd gone out, I mean, he was a human being after all. He'd need supplies after a while. But Shinra did seem quite sure about Shizuo not having left his apartment at all, since he'd left the hospital a fortnight ago. Maybe he'd just decided he didn't _need _supplies. Maybe he was dea-

CRASH! The thought alone was enough to make me use what little strength I had left to through my shoulder into the door. There'd be a bruise in the morning. Slowly, I pushed it open, ignoring the broken lock. Something funny was stirring in my stomach. Was this how Shizuo felt, when I lost my head? Was I feeling like this because I didn't want him to be dead - because I wanted to be the one to kill him?

No. Sure, I'd always known it would make my life a lot easier if he was good and gone, but I've never actually considered killing him. If I got the chance, maybe…

Urgh. The place stunk. Like sweat and beer and smoke. Bottles and shards of glass littered the carpet, which was damp from wet shoes stomping across the living room. Sprawled out on the stained sofa, was Shizuo, completely out of it.

No. This _definitely _wasn't my chance.

Shinra had been right, though (he generally was). The hollow shadows in his cheekbones, and his sickly pale skin tone, from being out of the sun for two weeks, were instantly recognisable. I remembered those features all too well. I leaned closer to him, the smell of booze becoming considerably stronger. Something small, round and white brushed under my fingers as I put my hand on the arm of the couch, and I crumbled the pill under my fingers before I could reminisce even slightly.

I could have just left him here. He'd wake up eventually, go through the same process again. It wasn't any of my business, at the end of the day. Shizuo could do what he wanted with his life, and I could go my own way and continue with my work. This was unfair. Shizuo was pulling me back into this way of life. Shinra was also to blame. I'd got out of my mess, and Shizuo could get out of his. I turned on my heel, and climbed over the countless amount of debris to get to the door.

But…

No…

Shizuo had always been there when I was stuck in Shinra's hospital. He wasn't around for my sake, of course, it was mainly because Celty was doing so many different jobs at the time, and Shinra wanted the assistance. This was also the start of his many theories including the pair of us: Shizuo and I were secretly the best of friends. Shinra continued to preach this theory (amongst many other, much worse, much more graphic theories), even though Shizuo was so obviously reluctant to hang around.

I might not have _wanted _Shizuo there in the hospital with me, but I couldn't deny that his presence wasn't comforting.

"You're getting soft, Izaya," I muttered to myself, as I stalked back through the living room. Doing my best to shuffle Shizuo so he had his back to me, I eventually managed to hook my arms under his armpits, lugging more than my own body weight across the tiny space of the flat. I flung the bathroom door open, squinting in the white-blue glow of the energy-saving light bulb, and sat him on the lid of the toilet. His head lolled against the cracked tiled wall, and I carefully took off my coat, flinging it over the door, to prevent it from getting wet. I kneeled in front of Shizuo and unbuttoned his shirt down the front, pushing the fabric over his shoulders and peeling it from his arms. It would need washing, but I smoothed the shirt out and folded it neatly.

He looked like he could do with a full bath, but I wasn't about to strip him down to his socks and start washing him. Even if I _did _want to (which I definitely didn't), he'd probably wake up and set the metal taps over my skull. So instead, I wrapped a towel around his shoulders, and dampened the top of his head with the sponge, rubbing shampoo into his hair carefully, so as not to startle him awake.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd washed the hair of someone who was unconscious. I couldn't remember the last time I washed the hair of anyone other than myself. I couldn't remember the last time I played the good Samaritan and actually _helped _someone, for reasons other than my own sick games. I pulled the towel from his shoulders and rubbed at his hair.

He groaned slightly, and his eyelids flickered, but he didn't wake up. After wiping his face down of smut and dirt, I repeated the lifting process until I'd flattened him out on his bed. It took a while to ease him out of his jeans, and even longer to pull his cotton pants up his legs. It was like dressing an oversized doll; his limbs wouldn't co-operate with me, bending in the wrong directions to where I wanted them to go. It was so exhausting, that after I'd pulled the sheets up to his chin, I collapsed onto the chair beside the bed.

It was strange how peaceful this was. This had to be the first (and only) time I'd ever spent more than ten minutes in Shizuo's company, without me trying to wind him up, resulting in him trying to kill me.

Which also made me question _what on earth _I was doing here.

I stood up quickly, so quickly that the chair his the wall with such a deafening bang, that Shizuo opened his eyes briefly, but didn't focus on me, and he fell back to sleep. I stumbled through to the living room, closing the bedroom door quietly behind me. I had the intention of leaving, this time, definitely, but I was hit in the face by the state of the living room.

"You've done more than enough, Izaya," I hissed through gritted teeth, but my hands were already stretching out for the smashed bottle shards. Acting like a fucking woman. At that moment, I loathed myself.

It was early in the evening, and the sky was unusually pink, for the winter, so I pushed the only window open to get some air. I picked up every shard of coloured glass, cutting and scratching my hands quite badly in the process. I further disposed of every bottle in the apartment, the broken, the empty and the ones that were fully intact and unopened. There were countless numbers of minute plastic bags, all with traces of different coloured and textures of pill and powder (he'd been mixing his drugs like he'd been mixing his drinks) and tiny, stomped out cigarette butts. I plugged in an ancient DustBuster that I discovered behind the sofa, and crawled around on my hands and knees hovering up the carpet. Then I stopped, and scrubbed with soap and water until I'd managed to budge the worst of the stains, and my hands were wrinkled and sore. Then, I hovered again, just to make sure. I wiped down every surface, straightened the curtains and the couch, and discovered a long forgotten can of air freshener, and nearly emptied it, masking all the different, disgusting smells in the apartment. When I was finished, I was tired, but ultimately proud. I actually considered cleaning my own apartment, for a change. It might get rid of Namie for a further few hours of each day.

There was only one more thing left to do.

I looked over at the TV. It really was a _mess_. He'd put it back where it was, after attempting to murder Shinra with it. There was a socking great hole right through the screen, to the back of the set.

It had to go.

Taking a deep breath, I stretched my arms as far around the TV as they would go, and heaved it up, hugging it to my chest.

I dropped it back in it's place almost instantly.

It was practically double my body weight; not one of those slim, flat-screen modern things. It was huge, wooden, and like a cube.

It looked a state, though.

I repeated the process, determined not to let the damned thing defeat me. After a dozen tries, I finally managed to heave the set towards the door, and an hour later, I'd got it all the way down the hundreds of stairs and chucked it on the rubbish pile beside the building.

Now I really was exhausted. I slowly crawled back up the stairs, and practically collapsed on the grotty "Welcome!" mat. When I looked up, Shizuo was stood in the doorway of his bedroom, arms folded, looking…thoughtful. "If I wasn't so sure this was a fucked up dream, I'd be ripping you limb from limb right now."

I groaned and pulled myself to my feet. I had been planning on whipping away before Shizuo woke up, so he could forever bask in the mystery of the Cleaning Fairy. It saved me hell of a lot of embarrassment, even if the idiot doctor would eventually spill the beans, that it was me who came to save the day. "You should be resting," I muttered, looking anywhere but at his eyes."

"_Is _this some fucked up dream?"

"Surely you have like a headache or feel nauseous or someth-"

"Izaya!"

I was getting pissed off with people bleating my name. I reached forward, and flicked him hard, right between his eyes. I knew it wouldn't hurt, but by the way he flinched and retched back, I knew he'd felt it. He rubbed his forehead, then started towards me, thrill to kill.

His legs gave way as he shifted forwards, and he fell towards me uselessly. I was in the right place at the right time (unfortunately). I automatically threw my arms out to catch him, misjudging how heavily he was stumbling, and we both collapsed to the floor. I groaned, flat on my back, under his dead weight. "Gonna kill you," he was hissing, far too close for my liking.

"Oh, play another tune, Shizuo!" I shouted, pressing my hands against his shoulders in a useless attempt at throwing him off. He didn't budge. "I know you've smoked half your remaining brain cells, but surely you've noticed the change in your pile-of-shit apartment?"

He stayed slumped on me, his head next to mine, facing down. "Shinra's been round."

"Shinra crapped himself because you attempted death-by-television. I was forced - against my will - to 'check on you', but I hauled you into bed, after cleaning you up, then tidied your entire fucking flat, as well as breaking my spine carrying your ten-tonne TV set down all those stairs!"

There was a silence. If he hadn't been breathing so evenly, and if I couldn't feel his eyelashes fluttering against my neck, I would've presumed he'd passed out. "You did?"

"Yes," I snapped.

"But why?"

"Because getting fucking soft! Get off me!" Slowly, he rolled aside, laying on his back hopelessly, with his face hidden in his hands. I pulled myself to my feet, and reached out to him. He grabbed my wrists and let me haul him to his feet, then hung his arm over my shoulder, as I located him to his bedroom. I let him drop onto his bed, and pulled the covers up to his shoulders once more, and stared down at him.

He gazed back up at me hazily, his eyes still clouded over. I sat down heavily in the chair. "Explain."

"Huh?" He replied, still focusing on the place where my head had been five seconds previously.

"What the fuck is going on?"

* * *

**A.N**: Dun dun dun...R&R please! I've yet to write the next chapter so I need to be tempted into doing so! Hint hint


	6. Six

_"If you die when there's no one watching_

_& your ratings drop and you're forgotten."_

_

* * *

_**A.N**: I was so pleased with all my reviews! Thank you so much! I hope I didn't make any mistakes this time, and I've done my best to make it longer :)

- you're not imagining things, and your email isn't spazzing out on you if you have this fic on story alert. I have uploaded this chapter twice, I'm useless with technology and still haven't figured away to edit a chapters content without having to delete it and reupload. Sorry XD

* * *

Shizuo had a lot to say for himself.

To me, it didn't seem like so much of a big deal, but then again, nothing much really did. But back to the story.

Kasuka, Shizuo's actor brother, had a particular obsessive (more like rancid) fan. This fan was so much of a stalker, that she had come about knowing almost every aspect of Kasuka's life. His birthday, his family history, right down to his favourite type of cheese. So, mainly out of interest, she became latched on to Shizuo too.

She'd heard of Ikebukuro's strongest, so she was even more excited to learn that it was he who was Kasuka's elder brother. Elder, slightly less good looking brother.

"She only wanted a photograph!" moaned Shizuo, his face half obscured by the pillow. "I was in such a bad mood, I just wanted to go to _bed_."

The stalker had followed Shizuo all the way home, up to his apartment (I refrained from commenting on how loyal she must be, climbing all those stairs) and started banging on the door, clamouring to be let in.

"It was awful!" he howled. Shizuo had ripped the door open and pushed her back, slightly too hard. She tripped and fell down the stairs.

Now, it wasn't as bad as it sounded.

The girl managed to catch hold of the banister as she stumbled backwards, so she only slipped clumsily down the first flight, and landed in an odd, unattractive position on her bottom, displaying her underwear. Always the good guy, Shizuo had a fit of chivalry and paid no attention to her embarrassing posture, flying down the stairs to help her up, only she freaked out, and dashed away from him. He chased her down the building, desperate to apologise. He was more worried that people were going to get the wrong idea.

In the end, she hadn't been paying attention to the busy main road outside the apartment block, and her death resulted in a large product wagon knocking her flat. Too young to die, but Shizuo hadn't given it much thought. It hadn't been his fault, after all. It was a complete accident, and _her _accident. If she hadn't stalked him up to his room, she wouldn't have had to run away, therefore, she wouldn't have died. Shizuo did, however, continue his streak of good behaviour. He pulled her to the roadside, checked her pulse frantically and called an ambulance when he couldn't determine whether the heartbeat was his or hers. She was pronounced dead at the scene. The paramedic asked if Shizuo had anything to do with her accident, and it was only then that Shizuo began to use his last remaining brain cells (well, those weren't his _exact _words), and wondered if he really had just murdered an innocent woman.

She'd thrown herself under a car because she was goddamn stupid. It wasn't his fault.

Kasuka didn't seem to agree.

He came round, later that evening, and Shizuo had never seen him so _angry_. The usually placid Heiwajima sibling yelled and grew redder and redder until a vein protruded on his neck and his forehead. He'd heard an ominous tale about a fan getting thrown under a lorry, and it had unfortunately linked back to Shizuo. Kasuka was so angry, that he didn't even listen to a word Shizuo had to say, instead he profusely refused to speak to Shizuo ever again, and as an act of disowning him, told him that the rest of the family wanted a murderer cut out of their family trees, also.

"I'm not a murderer!" wailed Shizuo as I listened intently.

Later that particular night, Shizuo had gone down to the pub for one drink (which eventually turned into several rounds), forgetting that he had to work that night, accompanying Tom through a rough part of Ikebukuro. Whilst Shizuo was getting impossibly drunk, and then left the pub to launch a sexual attack on a random innocent bystander (he tried to make it look like he couldn't remember that the random bystander was _me_ - I had the bitemarks to prove it, but I wasn't going to mention that _now_), and as all this was happening, Tom was brutally attacked in an alleyway by a colour gang. He'd managed to call Shizuo over, from his crumpled position in between some store bins.

Tom (all strung up in his hospital bed) was close to firing him. Shizuo wouldn't have blamed him, but he was desperate, and begged Tom to give him another chance. So of course, Tom, soft as…well, you get the idea, gave him just that. But not without a month of leave to sort himself out. This was the same month that Tom would need to spend recovering from his injuries. So, Tom looked ahead to thirty days of bandages and antiseptic wipes, whilst Shizuo started drowning in his sorrows.

It had been an accident at first. Shizuo had just bought a couple of drinks, just to ease his mind for the first couple of days. He was on _leave _after all, he may as well take advantage of it. But he started to enjoy the dizziness, the spinning, the lack of knowing anything. His drunken conscience told him that he _had _murdered that girl, and he'd need something harder to make him forget. So he did just that, phoned someone up, and started forcing his body with worse, stronger toxins. Pills, smokes, needles and whatever else Shizuo could get his hands on. They started making him believe he'd injured Tom with his own hands, and he was convinced that he wouldn't be able to stop doing the drugs, because he'd fall back down into reality. That, he didn't want. He wanted to stay up on his high, spinning and spinning and spinning.

It seemed like he'd been doing it for months, but in reality it was only fourteen days. Fourteen days of puking and poison.

There was a long silence after Shizuo finished.

It all sounded too familiar, to me.

"Don't do it," I muttered softly. "Don't get yourself into the mess _I _got me into."

"Thank you," Shizuo replied stiffly. "But I don't think I'll be able to stop myself." He removed his face from the pillow, and locked his gaze with mine. I forced myself to stare back into those steely eyes for at least a minute, then stood up.

"I'm gonna go."

"Wait-" Shizuo held up his arm, but I was already at the door. I fled down the stairs at full speed, ignoring the pain in my legs and my back and my neck, and took the first few steps outside.

The cold of the night pierced my lungs through my paper-thin skin straight away. I'd left my coat up there, flung over his bathroom door. It was _freezing_. Goosepimples were rising on my skin under my shirt, as I stared out at the dark. It'd turned late so fast. When I'd first turned up, it had been early in the afternoon, the sun white behind the pale, opaque clouds. No surprise for the ugly winter weather, the rain was coming in so thick and fast that I couldn't see to the end of the street.

I yawned. I was really tired. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so sleepy. I didn't sleep a lot in the night, and my body was becoming accustomed to it, though I didn't particularly _enjoy _my lack of it. I hadn't used this much energy since my own dates with drugs and drink. I could curl up and sleep anywhere, right now, if I'd let myself go…

I leaned against the doorframe and closed my eyes for a small moment…

"You can-"

"FUCK!" I jumped about a mile in the air, banging my head on the corner of the door in the process. I rubbed at the swelling lump, hissing, and turned to glare at Shizuo. He was still shirtless and wearing his thin cotton sleep trousers. I felt momentarily jealous of how unaffected he was by the cold. He wasn't even shivering. I hugged my elbows.

"Made you jump," he said in a bored, snide tone.

"No I didn't," I replied haughtily.

"Yeah, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"So what did you yell for?"

Good question. I looked up at the corner of the doorframe, spotting a spindly, translucent web. "Spider."

"You're not scared of spiders."

"Aren't I?" I cocked an eyebrow, amused by how much he knew - or thought he knew - about me.

Shizuo turned his gaze to something that was suddenly interesting above my head. I could see colour rising in his neck, and he swallowed, his adams apple bobbing in his throat. "Stay."

"What?"

"Stay," he repeated, quieter this time.

I paused. "Why?"

"It's late."

"So?" I rubbed my eyes, feeling the sleepiness wave over me again.

"It's raining too."

"Yes." I choked on a yawn, desperate not to show my tiredness to Shizuo.

"You could get attacked or something." Lovely.

"Thank you for your mock consideration, Shizuo, but I'm a grown man."

"And still as childish as ever," Shizuo smirked.

"Do you know…" the yawn didn't stay down this time, it came out at full volume, making me screw my eyes up and stretch my jaw. I dug my fingers into my sockets, determined to stay focused. "Do you know who…" Shizuo suddenly reached out, and grabbed my wrist. I stared down at his fingers enclosed around my arm, continuing to mumble incoherently, as he dragged me back upstairs. "Do you know who I am?"

"Orihara Izaya," Shizuo said brightly. "Twenty-four years. Life-wrecker, or, in polite terms, "Informant". Former alcoholic slash junkie slash _fuck-up_, recently reformed Samaritan and potential housewife. Underweight. Over-egotistic. Need I go on?"

"Bastard," I muttered.

"Back at you."

"I need to go _home_."

"You need to go to _sleep_."

Ha. Funny. I was tired, damn right I was, but as soon as I put my head to pillow and realised that I should actually drift off, I knew it wouldn't happen. It never did. My body was far too used to blocking out the sleep for fear of the nightmares. I nearly burned a hole in my cheek with the constant drug abuse, and on more on one occasion, my highs were extremely low. The bad trips stick with me to this day, in my sleep.

It's horribly embarrassing to admit it, but there are times I _can _sleep. At least three times since I went Cold Turkey, I've had to ask Namie to share my bed. The rare times I got a good nights sleep, I wasn't alone.

Urgh. I definitely wasn't going to let Shizuo in on that fact.

Shizuo pushed me through the apartment door. "Look. Just accept it. I'm still half-drunk, and I most certainly won't be offering my services when I get my strength back, and sober up a little bit. This is my thanks for you helping _me_, so get in bed and shut the fuck up."

Charming. "Fine," I muttered.

"Because I'm still going to kill you."

"Okay then." I was unconvinced, as always. I fell forward, face down onto the sofa.

"What're you doing?"

I curled up in a ball, preserving the small amount of heat I could keep contained. "Going to sleep."

"You're the guest, I told you to go in the bed."

I rolled my eyes. "You're _ill_."

"You're freezing cold." He poked my arm gently.

"I'll live."

"Izaya!"

"_What_?" I really, really was getting pissed off with the constant name-bleating.

He sighed. "I don't ask this kind of thing often - I certainly shan't be offering my bed to my worst enemy - so this is the last time I'm going to ask - no, _tell_ - you to go get in my fucking bed."

I groaned. I uncoiled myself from my position, and stood up. "_Fine_." I pushed past him, to his bedroom, wriggled out of my shirt, and climbed into his bed before the cold could hit me again.

I didn't, however, expect Shizuo to get in with me. I was so shocked that I almost darted out of the sheets, but then remembered I was shirtless, and would probably freeze on the spot. Instead, I forced my eyes closed, breathing through my nose. I had my back to him. We were on our respective sides of the mattress. He was a good half a metre away from me. Why was I worrying? He was snoring already. I inwardly told myself to calm down.

I didn't, of course I fidgeted and fumbled and strained my eyes, desperate to stay awake. It's a complex I have. A hole gouged out of the side of me from the _last time_. I was still on a constant nasty acid trip. Spiders, snakes, slime, insects and crawlies and creepies and gore…all over me, covering me.

This was how it started. I'd start thinking about the dreams I would probably have. If I could just forget them for one night, maybe I could sleep easily.

I could see the sky burning pink from the window in the living room. It was then that I decided to leave, I'd rested my aching limbs, and even though I hadn't slept a wink, I should get up and go. But when I tried to move my legs, they wouldn't budge. I was simply too tired. If I'd just give in…

So I did. I let go. Closed my eyes with a deep breath, and let sleep wash over me.

Straight away, it happened. I was stuck, in the mud, or some other unearthly substance. My feet and hands wouldn't move, something thick and slimy and wet was restraining me. I was naked; I could feel the cold air hitting my stomach and chest and more sensitive areas. I shuddered, vulnerable, afraid. Then something was touching my foot, my arm, something with a dozen legs and horrible pincers and teeth that chattered dangerously close to my ear as-

I jerked awake, and gasped heavily. I was clutching the side of the bed, panting, sweating. I'd only slept for mere moments (or so it seemed), and straight away, I'd been scared out of my own mind.

Suddenly, something heavy collided with my side, and I flinched violently again. Shizuo was shifting closer, his arm snaking around my waist like a coil. I looked down at the slightly tanned arm, contrasting against the white of my stomach. His chest pressed against my naked back, and his breath tickled the nape of my neck, his fingers grazing against my ribs. "You're okay," he muttered, but it sounded hazy. I didn't know whether he was asleep or not, so I didn't reply. I didn't think I'd be able to make any noise if I did open my mouth, so I kept my lips pressed together. What did he think he was doing, anyway? This was so wrong, so bad, so unlike us. I had to get out…

…but…

I felt safe, wrapped up in these stronger arms. Protected. Like I could sleep undisturbed. It was a completely different feeling from when I'd made Namie sleep in my bed.

However, I hated myself for being so damn vulnerable, as I felt myself relaxing back into Shizuo's hold, my hands gripping the arm around my waist, to keep it there.

For the first time in a long time, I slept for more than ten hours, peacefully.


	7. Seven

_"Drugs, give me drugs, give me drugs,_

_I don't need it but I'll sell what you leave me, I don't need it"_

_

* * *

_**A.N: **I thought it was about time the reader knew about Izaya's complexes.

* * *

It wasn't an accident that there were no batteries in any of the clocks in my apartment.

I hated time. I hated the way it had to move, flow, blend into something new. Why couldn't we stick in the moment? Why did I have to get up and leave Shizuo's flat, yesterday evening, when I finally awoke from my unusually long slumber?

I'd peeled his arms away from me and struggled out of his grip, staggering with the weight of my body, from not using my legs in what seemed like days. It certainly did feel like I'd been here for days. I pulled my shirt over my torso, my eyes not leaving Shizuo as I did so. He slept on, still on his side with his arms splayed out in the space where I'd just been, breathing softly, his chest rising and falling. I managed to pull myself together, and smooth out the pillow aside his head, snatch my coat from the bathroom door, and leave. I locked the door with the keys on the side, and posted them back through the letterbox.

Which brought me back here, to my spacious office, spinning around absent-mindedly on my desk chair. I felt like I'd left the city, turned up somewhere completely different. Somewhere colder, less homey.

What the fuck was I thinking about? I shook my head violently, and tapped at the computer mouse impatiently.

I wasn't supposed to use the internet. Shinra forbade me from connecting online, because I could potentially have drugs shipped in from overseas. Like I'd be that stupid.

Like I'd listen to Shinra anyway.

I should do, really, though, seeing as he fixed me up last time.

_Last time_. Maybe now is the time to start remembering that. Maybe this is why the sudden urge to make Shizuo give up on the drink and drugs, and clean his house, and sleep in his bed…was so prominent. Maybe I needed to reminisce a worse time to fix what was happening _now_.

Like I said. It was no accident that there were no batteries in the clocks in my apartment.

That was how it started. Time. Time, time, all the time. Everything revolves around time, and nobody notices it. We do everything to match time. We play right into the hands of time. Time.

It drives me crazy just _thinking _about it.

Admittedly, I am a control freak, and maybe that's what triggered the sudden dislike towards time. I hated that something so…_non-existent_, in a fashion, was controlling _me_, was controlling everyone, everyone that _I _should controlling. What did this Time have that I didn't? Who _was _Time? It's all everyone seems to talk about. "What time are we going to the cinema?", "What time did you meet your boyfriend?", "What time is the five-o-clock news on?". Okay. Maybe that last one was stupid, but some people are. Stupid enough to do everything to _time_.

I only had one digital clock in my apartment when I started noticing the hatred, and I removed the batteries instantly, leaving it stuck at 02:42 forever. I didn't care. I'd stopped time, and it made me feel good. But then I hired Namie, and she insisted upon 'bringing life' to my apartment.

Now, Namie didn't like me, and I didn't like her. She brought the largest, roundest, widest clock from a market stall one weekend, and hung it up right in the office, above her (smaller, and less important) desk. I tried not to take any notice of it - if Namie realised I had a dislike for the clock, she'd play it to her advantage - but it was constantly in my eye. I twitched. I shivered. I sweated. It tick'ed and tock'ed one notch too loud for me, the noise echoing around the corners of my brain, deafening me.

One day, it got too much.

I slammed my head onto the desk, and fisted my hands in my hair. "Get rid of that fucking thing!" I yelled, so violently that Namie had to do as she was told, for fear of injury.

But she didn't get rid of it, no, it was "too beautiful" to be thrown away, so she stood it up in her bedroom. Then, she went out, and bought more clocks. She knew I didn't like it. She knew I _hated _it, so she played innocent, setting up clocks around the apartment from digital to monologue, ancient to modern, roman numerals to Japanese kanji. Everywhere I walked, I'd be faced with my ongoing problem, until I flipped out, used my fists and head, and shattered every clock in the building. Namie thought I'd gone mad. _I _thought I'd gone mad. Shinra certainly thought I'd gone mad. He put me on prescription drugs, three a day, _at certain times_, which made me flip out a bit at first, but Namie promised to make sure I got them at the right time. I didn't _want _to take them. I didn't believe I was crazy, I was just a little misunderstood. I was younger, and I'd never paid attention to trivial things such as _clocks _before, so now when it suddenly hit me, it was quite a shock.

But, if it made me focus on my work more, I'd swallow every pill Shinra gave me. And after the first tiny white capsule, I was hooked.

It made me forget. I could smile serenely at Namie's big broken clock, and I forgot. I had the broken remnants pasted up onto the office wall again, just as proof that I wasn't crazy, proof that I could sit around time and be normal.

Well, almost normal. I profusely refused to have batteries put in the clock. I wanted to make my own time. I wanted to decide where the clock hands faced, and when they could face wherever they faced. I was back in control. I could forget.

I loved the big blank part of my mind that blocked out that aspect of my life. I was taking the prescription drugs even when Shinra insisted that I should try coming down, and maybe only taking one a day. I told him I would, but I was getting worse. My daily average was seven. I was constantly giddy, constantly excitable, constantly in a good mood, and when Shinra found out how I was abusing his services, he stopped shipping me my prescription. I was so angry, convinced that the blank part of my mind was going to fill back up again, that I was going to remember whatever it was that I'd blocked out with the drugs. So I needed something else.

Something better.

I was an easy worker. I got heroin quickly, on the sly. Stayed in on a night, roping up my forearms so the veins bulged, sticking a needle into it before I could change my mind. After one or two hits I didn't care about the jolting pain that the pin created, I just needed the after affect. It was brilliant; so much better than anything Shinra could ever or would ever give me. Namie threatened to tell the underground doctor, but I threatened to fire her, and also make it harder for her to get another job. She was scared when I was high; she hid in her bedroom whilst I sloped around the living room, talking to myself and laying on my back, relishing in whatever world I was in. I stopped eating. I didn't feel the need to. Namie told me I was wasting my money, but I didn't _need _money. Everything I had was right there, in a tiny little syringe.

I could see my body disintegrating whenever I woke up on a morning and looked at myself in the mirror, but I was sure that my mind and brain were being beautified. I was shrinking, my hair getting thinner, my skin paler, greyer, my eyes duller. My clothes were baggier and dirtier because I seemed to forget how to use the washing machine, and Namie could only do so much. I'd drink along with the constant substance abuse, right up until my appearance changed so drastically that I could no longer be served at the alcohol store. The alcohol store that I had come to know as my best friend. I threw a paddy like a small child when they refused me, then made Namie do my dirty work.

In the end, it was Shizuo who discovered what I'd become. He walked towards me in the street one day, with the intent of harming me in some manner, but I was so out of it that I didn't even realise where I was, allowing myself to be swept halfway across the block when he hit me with a street post. I'd landed in some rubbish, stinking, sitting up and thinking I was back home in my apartment.

I remember Shizuo telling me in a hissing voice to stop fucking around with him, and to start running like I normally did, but I just ignored him, and wandered off in the sloping, lazy walk I had acquired since becoming so dependant on drugs. Shizuo had silently tailed me back home until he was sure I'd got inside safely (cheesy, I know), and then called Shinra.

Only, he didn't call Shinra straight away, no. He had other 'important' things to attend to, so it was a full day before Shizuo decided to ring up Shinra and tell him I was off my head. He picked the wrong day to be late, however, as it was that night I went one stop too far.

I couldn't stop. I just kept on shooting, and drinking, and smoking, and drinking, and popping. Namie left after I screamed at her, leaving me alone, to my devices. The lack of food in my system was beginning to show, and I was out cold when Shinra came rushing to my aid.

The first thing I saw when I regained consciousness, was a huge white clock staring me in the face. It all came back to me, but I couldn't only wonder _why _I was so afraid of time.

I'd been knocked out for three weeks. Shinra thought I was going to die. Everyone thought I was going to die.

I'm so glad I didn't die. I don't _want _to die, ever.

Shinra made me stay in his presence for three weeks, until I'd sweated out all of the drugs. I had my stomach pumped, had to take a thousand different medicines, and was attached to an uncomfortable drip for most of my time. It was the worst feeling in the world, being sucked into reality. I hated it. I started off by yelling, throwing insult after insult at Shinra, demanding he fetch me a fix and fetch me it now. Then I calmed down, asking him nicely. When I realised flattery wasn't getting me anywhere, I begged, pleaded, and broke down into heartbroken tears. The closest I got to a pill was a fruit pastille. It was around this time, that I started realising I'd almost killed myself, and I _didn't _want to die. I needed to get better. I still refrained from eating, but mainly because I felt sick if I put anything in my mouth. My stomach had shrunk over the number of weeks I'd been abusing my body, so I could only manage small portions.

I was even more determined to get better when Shizuo started spending his free time at the hospital. I hated him seeing me so _weak_. I hated that he could easily have me killed right now, under Shinra's nose, but he didn't bother. He just stood there in the corner in sullen silence, cigarette out of mouth (Shinra refused to have tobacco near patients, especially addicts such as myself, at the time), staring at me. I often wonder if he imagined how I was feeling, or how I felt being so drugged up all the time. He must have thought about it, especially while he was going off and playing the same game, nowadays.

* * *

I sighed to myself after the short reminiscence. I didn't feel any different, nothing new was coming to me.

My phone buzzed on the office desk.

[_Unknown Number_: You left. I knew you would, but I still hoped you might stay just so I could say thank you in more sober terms.]

I raised my eyebrows.

[_Orihara Izaya_: Shizu-chan?]

[_Unknown Number_: I told you not to call me that.]

[_Orihara Izaya_: You told me not to, doesn't mean I'll actually follow your wishes.]

I sent that message, then wondered how on earth he'd gotten my number.

[_Orihara Izaya_: Where did you get my phone number?]

Whilst I was waiting for a reply, I added the number to my contacts list.

[_Heiwajima Shizuo_: Shinra.]

[_Orihara Izaya_: I should have known.]

[_Heiwajima Shizuo_: You left your socks in my apartment.]

Pity I wouldn't be going back for them.

[_Orihara Izaya_: I thought you were out to kill me, now that whatever happened last night, and the night before, is over?]

[_Heiwajima Shizuo_: I am going to kill you. I'm just luring you back to my apartment so I can do the job easier.]

[_Orihara Izaya_: Nice try.] I switched off my phone, snapping it shut and flinging it across the desk. I could think about Shizuo some other time.

I looked up at the remnants of Namie's broken clock on my office wall. Time. What a load of shit.


	8. Eight

_"Feel the magic rise_

_We're plotting our demise."_

* * *

**A.N: **R&R! Please! :'D It makes me more enthusiastic to continue XD

* * *

I opened my eyes slowly, giving myself a chance to grow accustomed to the bright light streaming through the thin curtains, before I got out of bed. I could hear people bustling in the streets below, already, even though it was probably only about nine in the morning. It had gotten busier these past few weeks, with shoppers buying gifts for family and friends. Two more weeks, and it would be Christmas.

I didn't _do _Christmas. I mean, sure, I enjoyed the atmosphere, and I adored watching my beloved humans scurrying and hurrying, finicking and panicking over trivial things like money and presents and family and food. But I never sent any gifts, and naturally, I didn't receive any. I didn't _care _though. I spent Christmas alone in my apartment, using the time (in which my phone would remain blissfully silent) to sort through paperwork that I'd been neglecting for the last twelve months, or try and fix unpaid deals so that I could be fresh and clean for the new year. Namie always took her leave three days before Christmas eve, and returned three days after New Years day. I relished in the peace.

Namie. Urgh. I looked down at the slim arm that was sprawled over my side, a finely manicured hand against my stomach.

This had been happening since the night I went to Shizuo's flat.

When it got to about eleven o'clock the night I returned home, I decided to go to sleep, but I was almost physically sick when I thought of my lonely, cold, empty bed. I couldn't stand the thought of the nightmares again. I needed the peace that I'd had the night before; I needed the _sleep_. I'd contemplated going back to Shizuo's, making up some useless excuse just for the sake of company, but I caught myself just in time. That was when Namie came into the bathroom with a glass of water, commenting on how green I'd looked before I dashed off to the toilet. Before I could think of the damage it would do to my ego, I was demanding that Namie sleep in my bed until I wanted it to myself again - she'd get extra pay, so long as no one found out, and she didn't question my reasons.

The hand twitched and flattened across the flat pain of my stomach.

It had been the same every night for the last three weeks, except Namie had made a vital mistake this morning. It was an unspoken rule, that she should wake up before me, get out of my bed, get dressed and go about her work. This way, I'd wake up refreshed, and I could allow myself to believe that I didn't need her pitiful company.

Though, actually, she didn't make me sleep as peacefully as I had done that night in Shizuo's flat. I didn't have the nightmares anymore, but I still had _weird _dreams. About a person. A certain person.

Again, I looked back down at Namie's arm.

I hated this.

Why did I need to be so _vulnerable_?

Why did I need this fucking _woman _hanging onto me?

I felt myself starting to shake with anger.

This was embarrassing.

_I _was embarrassing.

"Get out," I mumbled, my voice breaking. What had happened to me? Where had Orihara Izaya gone? Namie stirred behind me. "Get out," I repeated.

"Hnnnnnn….Izaya?" Namie sounded sleepy, but the worry in her voice was evident. She knew she'd made a mistake. Her arm slithered away from me.

"Get out."

"Huh?"

"Get out of my bed!" I shrieked. Instantly, Namie shot out of my room, like I was victim of the plague, or something. The door slammed closed behind her. I rolled onto my back, and stared up at the ceiling.

What was going on? What was going on with _me_? What was going on with the weird feelings, and the _weirder_ dreams?

Some small part of me wondered how Shizuo was going.

I shrugged that small part of me away quickly. I needed to focus every bit of me on being angry right now. I needed to remind myself that I wasn't the sensitive, susceptible, sentient fool I was acting like.

I needed to get out.

* * *

An hour later, and I had my coat buttoned up to my chin, my hands shoved into my pockets. I must have been the only person out in the streets who _wasn't _shopping. I was tired of being pushed around by random, rushing citizens. It didn't do anything for my already shooting temper.

This was all Shizuo's fault. If he hadn't invited me into his bed (or should I say, _forced_), I'd be sleeping like I usually did - few hours per night, but certainly without the ego-blowing embarrassment that was sharing with Namie. If Shizuo hadn't gotten started on the drugs, I wouldn't have had to go up to make sure he was okay, and everything would have stayed the same. If Shizuo hadn't pushed that damn girl down the stairs, she wouldn' thav ehad to run under the lorry, and Kasuka would never have come around and disowned him, and Shizuo would never have gone to the pub and failed to turn up for work, and Tom would never have been attacked, therefore no unemployed month for Shizuo. In fact, if Shizuo had never bumped into me on the street two years ago, realised I was stoned off my face, and then called Shinra, I would have just died and everything would have stopped.

Yeah. It was all Shizuo's fault. All of it.

Okay. I was being stu-

_-BANG!_

Before I could contemplate a reason, I felt myself hurling backwards, then hitting the ground with brute force, landing in an uncomfortable, awkward position. I brought my hands up to my face, rubbing my eyes and groaning. That was unexpected. When I pulled my fingers away, Shizuo was looming over me, half obscured by the shadow of the huge garbage can he was holding above his head.

I rolled out of the way as it came crashing down, hitting the space where my head had been two seconds previously. I pulled myself to my feet and ducked under his arm as he aimed another punch - I was back on my guard now - and spun around him so I was facing his back. In one swift movement I had my left arm hooked under his armpit, gripping the front of his shirt, and the other arm around his neck, my blade digging into his throat, and my head on his shoulder. It would've looked like an excellent capture, if I didn't have to strain and stand on my tip-toes in order to be at least as high as his collarbone. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I hissed dangerously, into his ear. "I thought we cleared some shit up, you know, after I cleared your _apartment_ - oh yeah, and _you_ as well, you ungrateful -"

"-we didn't clear anything up! I didn't ask you to come around and flutter around my flat with a dishcloth, like a cissy-"

"-out of the goodness of my heart-"

"-I said I was still gonna kill you!" He wriggled around, so he was facing me; my hands yanking at the front of his collar, his gripping my forearms. Suddenly, I noticed just how grey, and sullen Shizuo looked.

Is this how Shizuo noticed I was wrecked? Did he just notice the emptiness in my eyes, the hollowness of my cheeks, the chapped way my lips strained against the whiteness of my face? "I'm going to call Shinra," I said before I could stop myself.

"Huh?" Confusion etched over Shizuo's face.

"Have you seen the state of yourself?"

"Huh?" Shizuo made the same dumb, useless noise.

"You're off your fucking face!" I yelled. "You saw what happened to me!"

"Huh?"

"Give up with that!" I snapped. "I'm going to call Shinra, then you're going to come with me to see him."

"I'm going to do no such thing, Flea," he snarled in reply. "It's _my _fucking life I'm ruining, not yours!"

I didn't reply. I didn't want to say what was in my head.

"If you call Shinra, I _will _kill you."

"Empty threats," I bit back.

"It's none of your business _what _I do!"

"Well, _I _don't really _care_," I lied, feeling my neck heating up. "But Shinra is my friend, and I'm sure all of _your _friends and family won't be so happy if you kill yourself with toxins."

"What would you know?"

"Yeah. What would I know." I looked down, at his hands, which were still clutching my arms tightly. "I don't have any family, and I certainly don't have any friends. _What would I know_?"

Shizuo let go of me roughly, and backed away. "I will kill you!" He shouted as he stumbled backwards along the street.

"So do it!" I yelled back, holding my arms out either side of me, as if to welcome him into performing the act. "Come over here and fucking do it!"

"I….I…" Shizuo took several quick breaths, before turning on his heel and running.

I stood still, my jacket still rumpled where he had hold of me, my arms still warm where his hands had been. I wanted to go after him.

Did I _really _want to go after him?

Swallowing hard, and straightening myself up in order to regain a slight amount of pride, I pulled out my cellphone, searching for a familiar number.

_Beep beep. _

Answer.

_Beep beep_.

Fucking hell, Shinra.

_Beep beep_.

He was a _doctor_, how could he not be around the phone?

_Beep beep_.

"Hello!"

"Shinra!" I hissed down the phone. "Listen, you need to-"

"-Sorry, I'm not available right now. Please leave a message, after the tone!"

I pressed the red button, snarling angrily. I looked back up, and saw Shizuo, standing at the end of the street, watching me.

He didn't look happy.

So what. I tried to do my good deed for the day. I wasn't going for it again. With a final glare back at him, I turned in the other direction, and walked back home.


	9. Nine

_"You'd better give me some pointers,_

_As you are the big rocket launcher, and I'm just a shotgun."_

_

* * *

_**A.N**: We're finally getting somewhere! Ish! Thanks for all the reviews! Keep them coming! ...please? :'D

* * *

It felt like there were hands all over me. In my hair, over my face, under my shirt, sliding across my protruding ribs and my hips and my stomach. Hot breath in my ear, tongue on my neck, teeth nibbling at my collarbone. "Shizuo," I murmured. Blonde and blue, two prominent colours glazed across my hazy vision. I was so overwhelmed with pleasure, I couldn't see anything properly. "Shizuo," I whimpered again. His hands were travelling south, covering my hips, his palms wide and soft, his hold made me feel so much smaller. His tongue probed at my mouth, and I closed my eyes again, letting my arms wind around his neck, as I heard the noise of the zipper on my jeans-

"AHH!" I shrieked, jumping half a mile off the mattress. I lay completely still, my blood frozen in my veins, my hands gripping at the sheets, and stared at the ceiling.

_What the fuck_.

I'd thought, that kicking Namie out of the bed yesterday, would just re-invite the nightmares back into my bed. I thought I'd _rather _have the nightmares, than continue to have these _weird as fuck_ dreams. It wasn't right. I shouldn't _think _these kind of things, I shouldn't imagine these kind of things.

I sat up, and groaned as I felt something stirring in my pants. Now wasn't the time to wake up with this kind of problem. There was no one around that could fix it for me, not even Namie. I definitely wouldn't ask her to go anywhere _near _my groin, anyway.

See, I didn't _do _that sort of thing to myself. Getting myself off was embarrassing and pointless. _Why _did pleasure have to come from stroking yourself into release? I found pleasure in many other things, completely non-sexual related. You didn't have to touch yourself to get an orgasm; that was what lovers and whores were for. Otherwise, what was the point in women being women and men being men? There would be no need for genitals and otherwise.

Sure, I was no virgin. I'd had sex with countless numbers of faceless girls and boys, shortly after leaving high school (though I'd had my fair share _during _school) and I'd decided that sex, just wasn't for me. It was just easy release, something to let out some tension. I didn't _care _about it. I didn't _want _it that much. I was just…interested. Nothing any of those people did could make me want what they had to give me, again.

I decided I wasn't a sexual person at all. I only jerked myself off if I really _had _to, and even then I tried to forget about it straight away. It made me feel dirty, undesirable, disgusting. Like I had nothing better to do. Like I was one of those useless teenage boys that spend their days and nights playing video games, then stopping off for ten minutes, with a pair of their sisters knickers to rub themselves with.

It was normal, mundane. I _wasn't _normal, or mundane.

But my hand was still inching under my waistband as I thought this. I grabbed hold of myself, disgusted with what I was doing, what I was going to do, and smoothed out my train of thoughts. I just needed to get it over quickly. Think of something that normal, mundane human men thought of.

Boobs. Ass. Bitches.

I shuddered.

Why didn't it work? I stroked myself softly, and a rush of stormy blue melted into my vision.

"No," I whimpered to no one. "Not him. Anyone but him." I bit down on my bottom lip, screwing my eyes closed, as if that would shut me off from the imaginary world my brain was conjuring up without my permission. When did I get like this? When did I start thinking about Shizuo in this revolting manner? When did I start _fantasising _about him?

My ministrations were speeding up. I made a noise in my throat, somewhere between a strangled cry and a whine of pleasure. It was Shizuo touching me there, making me feel like this, making me…

His name was poised in my mouth; poison spreading over the tip of my tongue. He'd ruined me. He'd messed me up. It was all his fault. With a groan, my eyelids flew open, and I screamed my orgasm at the blank wall opposite me. "Shizuo!" I caught my release in my hand, and fell backwards onto the bed, wiping my palms on my pyjama pants.

Disgusting.

I hated him.

It was all his fault. If he hadn't cornered me that first, fateful night, I wouldn't even be _thinking _these thoughts. If I hadn't had to go _check on him _that night, I wouldn't have slept with him in that compromising way.

Purely because I was pissed of at Shizuo for managing to get in the unknown mind of Orihara Izaya, I rung Shinra.

_Beep beep_.

He'd better fucking answer today, I was in no mood to wait around.

_Beep beep_.

I'd throw my phone at the wall if no one answered.

_Beep bee-_"Hnnrghh…hello?" Shinra sounded sleepy.

"Shinra! What the hell is going on with your phone? Why didn't you answer yesterday? You're a fucking doctor!"

"Izaya….what…stop swearing…"

"You made me go up to Shizuo's flat three weeks ago, I ended up _sleeping _with him-"

"-Wait, what?"

"I mean in a literal sense. I slept in his bed."

"Oh."

"You're theories are still non-existent, Shinra. Shizuo still hates me." My heart panged, and I almost punched myself in the face, before adding: "And I still hate him."

"Ah."

"But I saw him yesterday, and he's absolutely-"

"Wait, he called me not long after you visited him, and said that he'd seen sense, and was off the pills now."

"He lied!"

"How do you know?"

"Have you _seen_ him?" I yelled. "Have you looked properly into his face?"

"Well, no, I try to avoid him if I'm honest-"

"You need to help him."

There was along pause. "Can I call you back in ten minutes?"

"What?" I snapped. "Shinra-" but he'd already hung up.

For ten minutes, I paced my apartment, picking up random misplaced objects, rearranging furniture and smoothing out cushions and blankets. For another five minutes, I shouted at my phone. Finally, as I was about to call Shinra again, it buzzed in my hand. Shinra launched straight into business.

"Izaya-kun, I can't go up-"

"Why?"

"I have - other circumstances - listen, could-"

"No."

"I haven't even finished what I was going to say," he replied sullenly.

"I'm not going up to 'check on him' again. It's not my job."

"Izaya, please, for me!"

"_Why _would I do _anything _for you? It's partially your fault, as much as Shizuo's, that -" I stopped instantly, catching myself right in the nick of time. I _wasn't _going there, especially not with _Shinra_.

"Huh? What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Look, Izaya, please, just do it as a favour…"

"You're just too damn scared that Shizuo's going to floor you, or something!"

"No, seriously!" Shinra clucked in his throat. "I just…can't…today…"

"Why not?"

"Private matters, Izaya."

"Well, I'm not going. I don't owe anything to Shizuo."

"You have no heart!" Snapped Shinra in reply, but I'd already hung up.

* * *

It was out of boredom, that I decided to leave my empty apartment. This time, I managed to duck around the rush of shoppers, choosing to walk on the opposite side of the road, the direction in which few passer-by's were heading.

I definitely was _not _out to see Shizuo, no matter what Shinra said. I didn't care if I "had no heart". I was no ones worker; people did the work for _me_. Shizuo and I were _not _friends, so what did I care if he killed himself from an accidental overdose?

It was just a leisurely stroll.

I looked down at my feet as I walked, becoming increasingly aware that they were going where _they _wanted, and my brain and eyes were having no say in the matter.

With a loud, angry groan, I looked up at the familiar, grey, concrete building that hosted Shizuo's apartment.

It wouldn't hurt.

I wouldn't have to _say _anything. Just knock on the door and do a runner before he could try anything. I was on guard. I'd eaten a full breakfast (half a bowl of Cornflakes and an apple), and I was well prepared for whatever Shizuo had to throw at me. At least this way, I could get Shinra back on my good side. I didn't want to be left stranded without medical assistance, if I ever got into trouble. I certainly _would not _be going to a hospital.

Familiar mental images flooded my mind. Shizuo kissing me, my skin, my neck, my collarbone, his hands everywhere, positively melting me. My voice, my own mouth, my own orgasm ripping his name from my lips. I was disgusted at myself.

Sticking my hands into my pockets furiously, and brushing my fingers across the blade I kept there, I started walking away hastily.

But…

Well…

It wasn't exactly Shizuo's fault.

What was I saying? _Of course _it was Shizuo's fault. If Shizuo hadn't ambushed me, that first fateful night, I'd never be having these weird feelings now. I wouldn't even have _thought _about having sex with him, never mind fantasising about it. I'd still be my happy, lonely, asexual self.

But that wasn't the point, was it, Izaya?

Shizuo was always there when I was having my stomach pounded, my arms pricked repeatedly for drips, my dressings changed, distasteful medicine forced down my throat. I _enjoyed _his company, even though I'd never tell him that. Maybe my company could help him, like his helped me.

Yuck.

What an embarrassing thought.

But my feet were already starting up the stairs.

This was ridiculous. Shizuo hated me. Of course he wouldn't want my company.

But I hated Shizuo (right?), and I'd come to see his company as part of my medicinal routine, when I was in Shinra's hospital. Shizuo probably didn't ever want to see my face ever _again_, after he'd seen me calling the doctor, literally as soon as he'd warned me against doing so. But he could be rolling around in his own vomit or something, and I couldn't have that. Because of course, Shinra would kill me if Shizuo died, and I'd never get free checkups at the doctors ever again.

That was the only reason I cared.

Right?

Well. Maybe, hopefully, Shizuo could resist the urge to kill me, for just another few hours.

The muscles in the backs of my legs screamed as I finally reached the top of the stairs. I paused, breathing heavily, and walked up to Shizuo's door. Briefly, I imagined what that girl must have felt like, coming up here with the intent of getting the great Heiwajima Shizuo's autograph on a photograph, only to be pushed back, falling down the stairs.

What if Shizuo pushed _me _down the stairs? He certainly wouldn't come rushing to my rescue.

I cleared my throat, and held up my balled fist, performing my three-knock ritual.

In all honesty, I wasn't betting on an answer, but I knocked again.

This time, the door swung open slightly. He'd left it unlocked. He really was a complete idiot.

But then again, no robber in their right mind would run up those hundreds of stairs, to then face _Shizuo_, so it wasn't surprising that Shizuo would just leave the door on the catch. Carefully, I called Shizuo's name quietly (once again being reminded of that mornings happenings), and stuck my head around the door.

I was shocked. I'd expected litter, dust, mess, maybe Shizuo sprawled out, unconscious on the sofa, like he had been last time. It looked exactly how I'd left it three weeks ago. Every surface clean, nothing out of place, and there was a new, more modern looking TV in the place of the old one. I stepped into the living room, looking around wildly. I wondered briefly if Shizuo had managed to clean _himself _up, as well, manage to unhook himself from the drugs he seemed so dependant on.

But, I'd seen the state of him yesterday.

There was no Shizuo here though.

Maybe he'd gone out? It was easy to forget to lock the door, and as I said before, no one would dare to rob Heiwajima Shizuo, anyway. Not unless they had a suicide note, or a death wish. Or, possibly, he could have _left_. The flat could just be open to squatters and dealers, whilst Shizuo did a runner, terrified of being dragged back to Shinra's hospital.

I bit back a snigger. Shizuo wouldn't run away from anything. If he really, really didn't want to see Shinra, he'd just throw him halfway across the city.

I decided to have snoop around, anyway. Only to see if he'd left anything worth stealing, it definitely wasn't because I wanted to see if he'd left any clues of his whereabouts. I closed the door quietly behind me, just in case there _was _any squatters loitering around, and sniffed around the apartment.

Hell, the place even _smelled _clean, like Shizuo was repeatedly spraying the place with air freshener. I trod over to his bedroom, and pulled open the door silently.

I tried to mask the sigh of relief a groan of dislike. Shizuo was fast asleep, in a half-sitting position, propped up on the pillows. The sheets were slipping down his shirtless torso (I tried not to think anything of this), and he had one of his fists balled up, the other one supporting a burning out cigarette. He can't have fallen asleep long ago.

I tip-toed over to his bed, and pulled the cigarette from his fingers, stubbing it out in the ashtray on the side of his bed. It wasn't the only stub of tobacco in their; there was almost a full packets worth of used cigarettes in the tiny glass dish. I pushed it further away, my nose crinkling at the smell.

Then I realised I'd parked myself on the side of his bed, sat right next to his dozing body, but before I could dive away, I noticed something papery sticking out of his fist.

"Hm…" carefully, I reached over, taking his fist in both of my hands, and kneading at his knuckles to try and get him to release whatever it was he was holding. Even in his sleep, he was using his horrific strength. With a loud grunt that almost shocked me into falling off the bed, he released the object and rolled onto his side, snoring softly.

It something small, square, and scrunched up into a ball. Carefully, I unfolded it, smoothing out all of the creases in the slightly thick paper. It felt like a photograph, but I couldn't quite make out who the figure in the image was. I needed more light, Shizuo's bedroom was dark, having no window. I flipped my cell open, holding the square of light to make out the face in the picture.

I dropped it in shock, and my phone as well.

It was me.

He had a photograph of _me_.

What the fuck?

Shizuo made a noise in his sleep, and I saw his elongate as he stretched.

I backed up, feeling the colour drain my face. Why did he have a picture of me? Where would he _get _a photo of me? I rarely had my photograph taken, if ever. Suddenly, the backs of my knees hit the only chair in the room, and I toppled over it, knocking it over as well, my back hitting the floor with a huge crash.

"Ghh…" I groaned, pulling myself into a sitting position, and rubbing my spine. I looked over at the bed.

Shizuo was sitting bolt upright, staring right at me.

* * *

**A.N**: How's that for a cliffhanger.


	10. Ten

_"Who said daterape isn't kind?"_

_

* * *

_

Shizuo was sitting bolt upright, staring right at me. I stared back, unblinkingly, not knowing what on earth to say. There wasn't really any way I could get out of this one.

But then again, how was he going to explain himself, either?

We were both trapped in a sticky situation, so we both started speaking at once.

"What are you -"

"Why do you have a -"

Shizuo threw the covers back, malice suddenly gleaming in his eye, and made to stand up. I scrambled to my feet, aware of where I was, and who I was with. In my head, I bade goodbye to this world, that I loved so much. I was so obviously going to die, right now.

But Shizuo only stretched his arm out to the bedside table, his fingertips scraping the glass bowl where the pile of cigarette butts lay. His hand found the packet, but unfortunately it was empty. He flung the paper box in my direction, and I jumped instinctively. "Is this a dream? Am I tripping?"

"Huh?" I replied, confused at him actually making comment. A rather unkind look graced his features, and he started untangling himself from the sheets, and walking towards me. I bolted for the door instantly, but as soon as I got to the exit, a larger hand appeared in front of me, slamming the door shut and holding it there. I spun around, suddenly aware that I was trapped between the pane of wood, and Shizuo, shirtless, slightly perspirating Shizuo…

"What are you doing here?" He hissed gruffly, his free hand grabbing at the front of my collar. I smiled weakly.

"Well, it's actually a good story."

"Explain," he hissed.

"Let go of me," I replied haughtily, determined not to let the blood rush to my face as he pressed closer to me.

"No."

"Fine."

"So?"

"Shinra told me to come, _of course_, why else would I be here, in your stinking, rotten apar-" his fist tightened around my shirt, cutting off the air to my lungs slightly, but I laughed anyway. "You left your fucking door unlocked, so it's your fault."

"I don't believe a word of this," Shizuo muttered. "I don't leave my door unlocked. You're messing with my head. You're not _here_. I'm tripping," as if to prove that I was just a figment of his imagination, he grabbed me by both shoulders, and started throttling me, as easily as though I were a rag doll, my head slamming against the door with each shake. I yelled out some ministration to stop, but Shizuo seemed unable to hear me. Finally, when he decided to give up, I had to grab onto the front of his shirt, to prevent myself from falling over with the dizziness.

I let go almost instantly, but he didn't, keeping his hands attached to my shoulders tightly.

"I'm going to kill you. If you don't exist, then it will be pointless. If you do exist, then, one nil to Shizuo…" and with that, Shizuo started throwing punches. This time, I was ready, and I managed to duck and dodge his fists easily, though, he was slightly clumsy and off-target, still looking tired and sleep-deprived.

I caught his wrists when he delivered a particularly sloppy thump, and pushed him back, until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and I shoved him back down into a sitting position. He tried to launch back up and attack me, but I moved back in the nick of time, and he fell back down onto his backside, after being unable to catch hold of anything. "My turn," I muttered, as Shizuo spat at my feet. "What the hell…are you doing with a photograph of me?"

For the longest five minutes of my life, Shizuo stared at me blankly, as if he was staring right through me at the wall behind me. I leaned forward, waving my hand in his face, and he fell back onto the mattress, glaring at the ceiling. I chose to sit aside of him, hovering my head over his, so he couldn't break my eye contact. "Hello? Shizuo!" I shouted, demanding an answer.

He screwed his eyes closed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar!" I hissed.

Silence, once again. I searched the floor, finally finding the picture, and holding it up in front of his face. He groaned, covering his eyes with his hands, and rolled onto his side, away from me. I yanked him back by his arm, not even paying attention to how much his skin seemed to burn my hand, and pulled his hands away, determined to make him look at me.

"Just explain!" I yelled, keeping his wrists under my fingers.

"I…." Shizuo looked unusually nervous. His neck was reddening up to his ears, and his eyes were vague and hazy. "I…"

"What, Shizu-cha-_Shizuo_," I decided, opting for a more serious tone. "I'm not playing around anymore. Why do you have this?" I flung the photograph down on the pillow next to him, and caught his wrist again.

"I got it from…" he mumbled something under his breath.

"Huh? Didn't catch that."

"Yagiri-san," he repeated quietly. "A couple of days after…after…I…you…"

"_Namie_?" I hissed. "What? _Why_?"

"When I…when I was drunk…and you were in the way…" Ah. _That _night. After then. "I can't…it's…no…" Shizuo wrenched his arms from my grip, and sat up, glaring me in the eye. "I don't have to explain myself. You don't scare me."

"You have my fucking photo in your _hand_, when you're in your _bed_! Do you _know _how bad that looks?" Secretly, I was pleased.

What? What? _Was I_? Of course I wasn't _pleased_. I was _sickened_ by this. Wasn't I?

Shut up, Conscience.

"I can't explain," Shizuo replied, exasperatedly. "I don't know why, myself."

"Bullshit," I muttered.

He didn't respond.

A dozen thoughts were running through my mind. What _did _he use this picture of me for? If it was for what I could imagine, heat rushed to my head and my trousers instantly. I needed to get out. I needed to get out, _now_. I looked at Shizuo once, briefly (he lay there, staring at the ceiling, ultimately mute), and turned, running for the door.

"Wait!" He called out from behind me, shocking me to a standstill. Only for half a second, however, and I wrenched the door open as he was clamouring to his feet, and rushed for the front door. I was almost there - so close, so tediously close - when a pair of stronger arms appeared around my waist, and I looked down at them, momentarily reminded of my night spent in his bed, before I was thrown in the opposite direction of the door, towards the sofa, where I landed with a heavy thump on my stomach.

Feeling vulnerable in such a restrictive position, I scrambled around until I was in a sitting position, suddenly shocked by how close Shizuo was to me. I hadn't expected him to be leaning over me, one hand on the arm of the sofa, the other on the back of the couch, trapping me. Again.

I stared up at Shizuo questioningly, then stood up, pulling myself to my feet slowly. "I'm not going to be thrown around by _anyone_, Shizu-chan," I said smartly.

"Don't call me that," he replied, but it didn't sound as vicious as usual. He backed up, until his spine hit the front door, and I walked right up in front of him.

"Let me out," I muttered.

"No. Wait. I need to…" he paused…searching the ceiling for an answer. "I need to…_try_…and explain."

"I don't want to _know_!" I shouted. "I don't want to know _what _you did - or have done - with that picture…" as the words left my lips, I was instantly reminded of what _I'd _done this morning, whilst my head was filled with virtual images of Shizuo. I felt colour rising in my face, and heat spreading up my thighs, to somewhere a lot more embarrassing.

"If you don't want to know…" his eyes raked over my face. "Why are you blushing?"

I felt like he'd punched me, right in the chest. I tried to keep my expression as emptily endearing as I could, but I could feel my stare wavering, desperate to look at anything else. "Let me _out_," I repeated, mustering all this sudden emotion into anger.

"No. Let me explain."

"No!" I yelled, and threw my fist into his stomach. I knew it wouldn't hurt him, and it didn't, it barely touched a nerve. He didn't even blink. I tried again, using my other hand this time, but he caught my fist, then the back of my neck with his other palm.

I couldn't have spoken even if I wanted to. Shizuo pulled my face towards his slowly, slowly, until we were only mere inches apart-

Then he stopped. His ministration seemed to freeze completely, as his icy blues stared into my scarlet orbs. I stayed where I was, one of my hands trapped in his grip, the other pressed to his chest in what had been an attempt to push him away. We stayed in this strange position for moments, which seemed like _hours_, waiting for the other to speak.

"What…the hell…are you doing…" I whispered, unable to blink, or even move.

"I don't…I don't…I can't find the words…" Shizuo ripped his gaze from mine, and instantly, I withdrew from him, staggering backwards, until the backs of my shins hit the coffee table, and I fell backwards onto the couch uncomfortably. I must have made a noise of pain, as Shizuo appeared almost straight away, hovering over me, apparently concerned. The anxiety left his face immediately as it appeared, replaced with something new, something…

He was leaning closer, practically laying on top of me. I could see his eyes half-closing, his lips parting slightly as they came ever nearer to mine. I waited for the inevitable, _loathing _myself once more. My brain screamed at me to _get out_, to _run_, to _hit him_ or _something_, but my body was refusing my mind, forcing me to stay put, and accept whatever Shizuo was going to give me. I welcomed darkness, as my own eyelids slid closed, and I felt warm, nicotine-coated breath lacing over my lips. I wanted him to kiss me now. Why wasn't he kissing me? He was so close to me. I was so ready, so…

_Desperate_.

I opened my eyes again, seeing those grey-blues staring into me once more. "What am I doing?" He asked aloud, more to himself than me, so I didn't reply. He pulled away from me, and my body momentarily ached without his heat. I sat up, rubbing the back of my head, and jumped to my feet as well.

It wasn't lust in his eye, anymore. Shizuo had his hand over his lips, apparently shocked at what he'd been about to do. "Get out," he said quietly.

"Hey! You fucking started-"

"Get out!" He yelled, louder this time. "I'm going to fucking kill you!" He headed towards me.

I shoved, not wasting any time, this time. I ran straight for the door. I flew down the stairs at such a speed, that I almost tripped over my own feet. I could hear him behind me, he wasn't leaving me to escape, this time. I didn't dare look behind me, in case I lost my balance and overthrew myself, headfirst down the steps. Finally, I smelt petrol and contaminated air, as I reached earth. The muscles in my legs cried, but I continued running out of the building, until I was far up the street.

The thumping of feet behind me didn't cease, however. Nor did the death threats.

He was still wearing his pyjama pants. If I wasn't so sure he was going to commit murder tonight, I would have laughed. At that, and that this seemed…so much like old times.

If I got the chance, I'd pass the comment to him. Something told me, he wouldn't be appreciative.

Shit.

I wasn't as healthy as I once was. After the coke and the heroin and the constant drinking, my body didn't seem to be able to run as far. Unsuprising, really. But Shizuo, fucking, stupid Shizuo, he'd been doing drugs constantly (as far as I knew) for more than three weeks, and he was…catching up with me.

I darted into an alleyway.

_Shit_.

Big mistake. Wrong alleyway; a _familiar _alleyway. Dead end. Dead Izaya.

No. _No. _I wasn't going to die. Orihara Izaya was _never _going to die. Orihara Izaya was going outlive everyone.I rushed back to the entrance of the alleyway. Too late. Shizuo's larger silhouette was already framing against the light from the streetlamps on the sidewalk. He walked towards me, and I instinctively backed up, until I was in the cold, bricked corner.

He grabbed me by the front of my shirt, his fist so tight around my neck that I almost choked. He slammed me into the wall, once, twice, then let go of me. I struggled to keep my balance, and by the time I'd regained from my dizziness, I realised he was attacking me. Punching me repeatedly, in the stomach. Though, I was seemingly unaffected. It didn't hurt. His punches were sloppy, off-target, and his head was hanging, not paying attention to what he was doing. His shoulders were shaking, a strange noise emitting his lips.

Was he _crying_? I was the one who should be _crying_.

"Shizu-chan?" I muttered, trying to push him back. "Shizuo.."

"Shut up!" He cried, in a strangled tone. "Just shut up! Just _die_! Do you know what you're doing to me?" His fist made contact with the wall opposite me, his head flaring up, facing me again. "Do you know what you're making me do?" Spit sprayed in my face. I swallowed.

This wasn't my fault. _None _of this was my fault. Shizuo made the first move, the first time. I didn't care whether he was drunk or not. I took a deep breath, regaining my composure. "Do you know what you're making _me_ do?" I replied coolly.

"You're in my head all the time. _I want to kill you_."

I sighed, turning my head away. "You started this."

Shizuo glared at me. "That's a lie. You _lured _me down here, when I got you the first time."

"I didn't lure you to do what you did! And I certainly, certainly wouldn't have even dreamed of letti-ah!"

His teeth were on my neck, and it _hurt_, amongst other wild things I wasn't going to allow myself to admit to. _Déjà vu_. His hands were on the wall either side of me, trapping me, no means of escape. I wasn't _going _to escape, this time. His cold - fucking freezing - hand was slithering up the front of my shirt, and I winced, pressing myself further into the wall. _Déjà vu_.

"This is familiar," he growled to no-one in particular, but his breath was hot against my ear. I held my breath, desperate not to make anymore embarrassing sounds, as his fingertips danced across my ribs and his tongue attacked the soft skin below my ear. He was fully leaning against me, now, melting me into the wall. I wished I could sink through it, disappear. I wished I could bring myself to shove him away.

"Shizu…this is…you need to…" my sentences weren't connecting properly, making no sense. I couldn't comprehend what I was trying to say. He was distracting me.

"Tom isn't going to get injured and come shouting for me this time…"

I didn't know whether that was a threat or not. He pulled his face out of my neck, pressing his slightly perspirating forehead to mine, and I looked up into those eyes, intent on winning this staring contest. My own eyes fell to his mouth, as he moved ever closer to me, barely breathing…

The kiss was soft and light, like a peck you'd give an old auntie. Not that I'd know, I don't think I have any old aunties. I felt his hands circling my wrists, pulling my arms over his shoulders, his own fingers returning to my waist and back. He slid his tongue across my bottom lip gently, and I parted my lips slightly. My eyes were only half open, as were his, and I could only just see the pale blue through the curtain of eyelashes. His hand was stroking the skin of my lower spine, making me unintentionally press myself into him. For that moment, I didn't even care how needy and embarrassing I must have looked. I let my eyelids slide closed, falling into this feeling…

A loud screech of motorcycle wheels attacked our ears, and Shizuo lurched away from me instantly, staring at his hands although he'd been burned. I slid down the wall pathetically, having relied on Shizuo's hold and weight to keep me balanced. I jumped up quickly, suddenly angry at being so weak, and pushed past Shizuo, towards the end of the alleyway, where the Black Rider sat on her bike. She was typing something into her PDA, but I didn't want to know.

"Izaya!" Shizuo called after me, but the moment was gone, in his voice as well. It sounded like we were back to square one; the growl was in his throat again, he wanted to kill me.

I launched over Celty's bike, ignoring Shizuo's protests ("You've ruined me! I can't believe I've done this! I'm going to _kill _you!"), and ran, ran, ran until I'd forgotten where it was I was going, and my heart was thumping in my ears.

I sat down on a bench, staring up at the night, my fingers poised at my lips thoughtfully.

Maybe it _was _my fault. Maybe I _did _lure Shizuo, though, unintentionally. "Am I ruining him?" I asked the stars quietly.

I didn't care though, right?

* * *

**A.N**: & soon, we find out just why this story has the chapter "Gasoline"! :O


	11. Eleven

_"Handcrafting housewives into whores."_

_

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_

**A.N**: I've finally updated! It may not seem so much to most readers, but a week is a long time for me! I'm usually writing up the next chapter whilst I'm updating! A lot has gone on this week. Not only did I fall behind on studies, I ended up in hospital for the majority of the week, but I'm back to full health and fully on track with my college work! I'm on half-term break now, but I have a lot of homework. I'll try my best. Have faith. Thank you for all my wonderful uplifting reviews!

* * *

I prised open my gunk-clogged, sleepy eyes, and stared up at the thick, white cloud of the winter morning sky. I half closed them again at the brightness of the light, silently admiring the strange, plain beauty. Then I registered how _freezing_ I was.

I was rigid with cold. My fingers and toes were numb, and my limbs were shuddering. My jaw trembled profusely, my teeth clattering together noisily. Thankfully, it hadn't rained or snowed last night, but my clothes were still damp with the early morning dew, sticking to my skin. I could have had _pneumonia _or something. Damn Shizuo.

It was of course, his fault.

But now I had something else to think. That it could, possibly, be my fault.

I shook the thoughts out of my head, and sat up - with difficulty - my back and neck ached with lying in such an awkward, uncomfortable position on the wooden bench. Wooden bench? I looked at the slushy mixture of ice and rain on the pavement around me, and at the few early morning passer-by's walking their dogs, staring at me, confusion etched upon their innocent, unknowing faces.

Innocent. Unknowing.

Slowly, I dragged myself to my feet, pulling my coat tighter around my neck. The cold had gone straight to my bones. I needed to get to my apartment, wrap myself up in dry clothes and have a nice cup of black coffee. Or cocoa. I could be ill, after all. I was allowed to briefly act the hypochondriac, a part I rarely played. I wasn't the typical male human who got man-flu. I stuck my frozen fingers into my pockets and balled them into fists, willing them to warm up, glaring straight back at the nosy citizens. They would know that Orihara Izaya could sleep where he wanted, when he wanted, in whatever _season _he wanted. What right did they have to stare?

Of course, they instantly turned their gazes back to their feet.

Now it was light, I was more aware of my surroundings. I'd gone in the complete opposite direction of Shinjuku. I was more on Shizuo's side of town. He wouldn't appreciate that.

He wouldn't know. He was probably being babysat by Celty and Shinra right now, whilst they stuffed three thousand anti-depressants down his throat and forced him to stay confined to the strict, stiff hospital bedsheets.

I didn't care.

Had Celty _seen _what happened last night? She probably had. She'd probably told Shinra. By now, the world probably knew. A _different _story, knowing Shinra. He would have elaborated accidentally on the real facts, making it look like a sickly, secret love story that Shizuo and myself had been hiding from the world since the day we met. In fact, Shinra would probably say he knew exactly what was going on all along. It was probably on his list of theories. This would explain why people were staring at me when I woke up.

Shinra wouldn't do that. Would he?

I growled in my throat. I wouldn't hesitate on ripping him limb from limb if he had, whether Celty tried to stop me or not.

But maybe it should be _Shizuo _I killed. I could kill him. Anytime I wanted. I could just do it. I could go do it right now. Once chop - _chop_ - I ripped my knife from my pocket and made a chopping motion as a form of practice. Once slice - _slice _- whip -_ whip_ - "Shit!" I narrowly avoided sending my blade across the face of a young, glowing, heavily pregnant female human. She backed up, the large grocery basket in her arms toppling out of her grip, spilling tomatoes and leeks and cabbages all over the sidewalk. Her eyes, wide and blue - innocent - gazed up at me, tears of fear leaking from between her thick eyelashes. "Sorry -" I quickly gushed, picking up her groceries and bundling them back into the basket after stuffing my knife back into my pocket. I was suddenly terrified that people around me would see, and start making more accusations. _'Orihara Izaya, the Woman Beater.'_

I stopped, my arm frozen over her grocery basket, a single tomato between my fingers. I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip, my eyebrows narrowing. I could feel my gaze intensifying, staring at a space on the woman's forehead. When did I start caring about _accusations_? I lived a life of flitting around freely, completely unaware that newspapers and media and nosy journalists even _existed_. I only live for myself. I'm not a slave to this world. This world should be a slave to _me_.

So why was I scooping fruit and vegetables from the feet of a pregnant whore like I was her bitch?

My fist tightened, the tomato exploded in my hand, spattering across her white blouse. I threw the remnants of the soggy, red seed into her basket, and brushed past her without another word. Orihara Izaya was not _sorry_. Orihara Izaya did not ever need to even _use _that pitiful word.

I was so angry. I could feel the gaze of the poor woman etching into my back - she was probably traumatised, thinking I was about to murder her on the streets.

_But I didn't care_.

I continued to fume and fury, my anger slowly evolving into a great, blonde problem in the centre of all my thoug-

_CRASH!_

I toppled straight into a black mass of metal and wheels, managing to catch my balance before I fell over. Straightening up, I grabbed the shoulders of the person in my way. "Celty?" I said between panting breaths, my hands dropping to my sides. She whipped out her PDA.

[_I need to talk to you_]

"Not now," I replied, darting around her motorbike and carrying on in my direction without making eye contact (well, as much as I _could _make) with her. I was fully aware of what she needed to talk about, and I wasn't prepared to discuss it. "I need to get home."

I heard the familiar noise of wheels on tarmac, and I felt a rush of wind as Celty skidded to a halt in front of me. I stopped, sighing, as she held up her PDA again.

[_It's important_.]

I glared at her, or, at my reflection in her helmet. "Shizuo and I are not shacking up, having sex, or anything else you might want to-" Celty was waving her PDA in my face again.

[_That's not it._]

"Ah." I licked my lips, feeling colour rising to my cheeks.

[_Shizuo ran away, after you, last night. He'd long gone since I got back on my bike, and I couldn't find him. I wondered if he'd got to you. Do you know where he is? It's important he gets medical attention from Shinra._]

I slowly studied each character on the small screen, slowly. "I…I don't know," I replied finally, shrugging. Then, I felt the anger boiling up inside of me, again. "Why would I know? What on earth would I have to do with Shizu-chan? Why are you asking _me_?" I demanded to know.

Celty appeared hesitant; her body tensed somewhat, and she fiddled with the technology in her hands before deciding to reply, cautiously holding the screen out to me.

[_Well, after I saw the two of you kissing last night, Shinra advised me that you were most likely to know where he was._]

My lips pursed, a vein suddenly throbbing in my temple, and before I could consider it, I'd swatted the PDA out of Celty's hand, and flew into the gutter at the side of the curb, a large crack appearing on the screen.

Without even waiting for me to speak, Celty punched me hard, and directly on target, right in the stomach. I groaned, and double over, staring at her feet, as she rose her knee at brutal speed. I only just turned my face out of the way, receiving the blow to the side of my head instead. My ears rang as I rose my face hesitantly, rubbing my tummy. I reached down for her PDA and pressed it into her hand - without apologising - and turned away from Celty for the last time that day, making my way back home.

* * *

I was so glad to finally see the mirrored, glassy windows of my apartment as I strolled along the street. It'd been a long hour of walking, extremely slowly, still freezing cold, and now with new, fresh bruises to tend for (though, I suppose I did deserve them). I was so looking forward to my comfortable, if not a little worn bed.

I took a deep breath, then frowned.

Petrol.

Why could I smell petrol?

I looked around, noticing a large, parked lorry parked in the lay-by at the opposite side of the road, my suspicions drawing to a close. Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I stuck the largest into the keyhole, and pushed at the glass door.

It swung straight open.

Funny. I was sure I'd locked it before coming out the previous night. My brain ticked for answers.

_Namie_. Namie would have been here last night, or maybe she left early this morning before I could get here. She was probably in such a mad rush - which wasn't really like Namie - that she forgot to lock the door. I'd shout at her for it later.

Though, I closed and locked the door behind me, just in case, throwing my keys onto the desk which was in front of the door that led to the rest of my office. I didn't expect Namie to be around, especially after the way I'd been behaving recently. I didn't care. I'd just dock her pay. I didn't need her anyway.

I didn't need anyone.

My nostrils twitched. The smell was so much more prominent. I made my way upstairs, to close any windows that were open. I needed _peace_ to relax. _Complete _peace. Silence. No weird noises. Nothing.

I needed to get changed. I pulled myself up the stairs by the banister, all the time thinking of the hot chocolate my microwave was begging to heat up.

It really, really _stunk_.

I got to my bedroom, putting my hand on the cold metal of the door handle, and froze, looking down at my feet.

The carpet was damp. No, _soaking._ The wetness was seeping out from under my bedroom door. I flinched away from the door instantly, my feet squelching in the soggy carpet, and I noticed the rest of the hallway was drenched, too. I looked over the balcony, onto the main entrance to my apartment, and saw that the tiled floor was shining with puddles. It was even all over my desk, covering books and papers and files.

The scent wasn't leaving my nose now. It was right up in my head, in my brain. Something told me I wouldn't be relaxing with my hot chocolate tonight.

I shoved open the bedroom door, suddenly afraid to turn the light on, and peered into the gloomy, half-lit room. My room was trashed. My bed had been slept in, then covered with the same slushy, stinking substance, as was the rest of my bedroom, the drapes, the rugs, all my clothes had been pulled out of my wardrobe, ripped up, then also drenched. Bottles littered the floor and the sideboards, my once exceptionally tidy bedroom, now cluttered and destroyed beyond belief. My curtains were drawn, but I could see a figure standing against the window. No guesses as to who that was. Shizuo turned to look at me, eyes lidded with his obvious intoxicated state, and smiled at me.

I saw the lighter in his hand. It struck me.

Gasoline.


	12. Twelve

_"I'm highly flammable, _

_Caged up animal,_

_I will go off on you."_

_

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_**A.N**: Probably the hardest chapter I've ever written. I don't _do _action, which is why it may not seem so action packed XD

I tried my best. Please enjoy and review :D

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I blinked once, twice, three times, then slowly performed the procedure again. Surely this was a joke. Surely I was _dreaming_. This couldn't, couldn't, _couldn't _possibly be happening. _No one _broke into Orihara Izaya's house. _Nobody_. Not even the most swift and refined burglars could get away with it. So what on earth gave Shizuo the privilege?

He continued to smile at me, dauntingly, whilst I felt my body unintentionally tensing up. I didn't want to appear weak in front of him, weak and afraid. He didn't scare me. _He didn't scare me_.

For the first time in a very long time, I was really, really scared.

I didn't want to _die_. I didn't want to go up in a pitiful mass of flames before I'd even had chance to say goodbye to my beloved human world. I definitely didn't want my apartment, decorated to my immaculate idea of perfection, to cinder and crumple into ashes. I wouldn't die, and nothing I took pride in would die with me. Perhaps, I should be a little more specific. I wasn't going to be _killed_. I wasn't going to be _killed _be Heiwajima Shizuo.

Neither of us said a word for several moments. Shizuo kept his icy grin frozen on his face, his eyes, drooping slightly with the lack of sleep, gazing at me, though slightly off-focus. My red-wine stare bored intently into him, silently attempting to deter him from whatever it was he was planning to do.

As if to answer my unspoken thoughts, he flicked the lighter in his hand, and I flinched when the flame briefly ignited, before dissolving once again. He laughed out loud.

"This isn't funny, Shizu-ch-" I stopped. I needed to be _serious_. "Shizuo. What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"I wasn't joking last time! Last time, was the last time I intended to say it. I'm going to _kill _you!" He held up his arm threateningly, holding up the lighter. I raised my hands in an attempt to calm him.

"Shizuo. Think it through."

I heard his teeth grind impatiently, and a vein throbbed on his temple. "I'm not letting you get into my head this time, Izaya!"

I closed my eyes, then regretted it, opening them quickly. "I'm not messing with your head." He looked at me, disbelieving. "_Honestly_," I lied. I had to get into his head in order to use him, to make him dance the way I wanted to. I kept my eyes trained on his, determined to stay connected. "If you throw that lighter, you'll set everything in this room alight. _Everything_. Yourself included. I have a twenty-five percent chance of escaping as I am closer to the door. Yours is limited to a seven point three percent chance, as you are at the other side of the bed, you'd risk getting burned climbing across it, or going around it." He opened his mouth to retaliate, but I wasn't finished. "Before you tell me you're going to go out of the window, a one-storey drop may not be high for someone who thinks he is as mighty as yourself, but judging by the way you would jump out of the window if you take that option - which is, in your rush to escape, you are most likely not to think about the correct procedure and jump straight down - therefore crushing your legs, not killing yourself but probably causing great injury. Or, you will go head first, hoping you'll land in a bush, greater improving your chances of dying, or at least cause some sort of brain damage." I took a breath, managing to hide my pride at managing to outsmart Shizuo - something I did on a regular basis, but still. It was always cause for silent relish.

Shizuo simply stared at me, slowly digesting my words - a task which was difficult for him even in his most sober of times. His face grew more and more lined with tension, the vein in his forehead intensifying, his lips curling into a snarl around his teeth. "Why do you always have to be so clever?" He hissed, his blue eyes suddenly focusing on me properly.

"Because," I replied, feeling anger rising in me again, all of a sudden. "I come home - to _my _home - to find _you_ - filling my apartment with that stinking stuff - getting wrecked in my bedroom - _ruining _my house - _Dammit _Shizuo, I'll act however I want in my own home!"

"Don't shout at _me_, you flea!" He roared, and moved towards me, raising his free arm, fist clenched, ready to swing. I'd expected this, and ducked under his hand, suddenly directly in front of him - suddenly, mouth to mouth with him.

How did that happen?

I tasted cigarettes and the strong scent that alcohol left on the tongue. This was where I wanted to be. Attached to Shizuo by the lips. Why did this make me feel so…

His hands slammed into my chest with unreasonable, shocking force. I felt myself catapult into the opposite wall, and my spine screamed. I barely opened my eyes, before I heard the telltale shriek of roaring flames. Shizuo had thrown the ignited lighter onto the gasoline-drenched bed, and it automatically went up in a blaze.

"You don't get to do that to me!" He screamed over the flames. "You don't _get _to touch me!"

"And you can touch me? You can attack me and do what you did to me?" I yelled back, watching as he backed up against the window. His eyes were widening behind his tinted glasses, and I saw him push them up onto his forehead. Behind the wavy, chemical screen of the smoke and gas emitting from the smoke, I saw him swallow.

"I…I…what…"

Apparently, he'd only just realised what he was doing.

"You fucking idiot!" I screamed. "Why do you have to start flipping out and acting like such a brute over everything? You see what you've done now? You're going to fucking _die_!"

"So are you!" Shizuo yelled back. "Don't fucking shout at me!"

"I'm sick of you!" I cried. I felt tears streaming out of my eyes, quickly evaporated by the intense heat. The fire was spreading onto the floor, closer to me, to Shizuo. "I'm sick of this! What you've done, what I've done, what we've done - I want to hate you again! You need to _die_, you need to get out of me!" What was I saying? I was going too far. I was saying too much.

"I want to hate _you_!"

"Rot in hell," I snarled. "I'm not dying today." I rubbed my eyes, then reached for the door, ignoring the flames that licked the skin from my wrists as I did so.

That was a bad move. I'd forgotten that Shizuo had spread the gasoline across my entire apartment. The fire met the petrol which lined the carpet on the corridor. I almost threw myself down the stairs in the rush to escape the fumes.

From the bottom of the stairs, I sloshed around in the practically flooded entrance hall, wondering why I didn't notice the amount of dampness before. I searched blindly for my keys, then I heard it.

"Ow…fuck…"

It was tiny, a tiny voice, I wouldn't have heard it if my ears weren't unconsciously searching for any noise that Shizuo might make. I looked up, and saw him on his knees at the balcony, glaring down at me through the wooden slats.

"You did this to yourself!" I shouted up at him, aware that the fire was spreading downstairs, now. I needed to get out.

"Fucking run, you bitch!" Shizuo bawled. "I came here to kill you, and I've killed myself whilst you slip away - again! I should have known! You get where caster-oil can't!" Shizuo paused. "I must admit, I think I respect that of you," he suddenly made a great noise of pain, a searing sound that ran me through. Tore straight through my skin, my flesh, my bones, and by the time my brain registered it, I was heading back towards the stairs.

_No_.

I didn't need him. I didn't need to do this. I didn't - didn't - ever - go running back for people who had just tried to kill me. Shizuo was an annoyance - this should be seen as a great uplift for me. I would be ridding myself of a massive stain on my life - Shizuo - gone - my idea of heaven. I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, without constantly having to look over my shoulder for oncoming traffic (literally) flying towards me.

(Though, I would be extremely bored.)

Why wasn't my body comprehending all of this? Why was I risking high degree burns to get to Shizuo? I winced and whimpered as I crawled up the stairs, narrowly avoiding the flames, and hobbled on my hands and knees towards the crumpled frame, halfway across the corridor.

"Come on," I hissed over the flames.

"What are you doing?" shrieked Shizuo. "I don't need your help. I don't want your help. I'd rather die here."

"Don't be an ass," I shot back, and grabbed his wrists, trying to make him look at me.

"Going to kiss me again?" He snarled, and I dug my nails into his skin.

"Listen to me," I snapped. "I could have escaped just then. Instead I'm coming back here like your bitch, to help you. Take it or leave it."

"Leaving it."

"Tough." I started dragging Shizuo back - with much difficulty, as he was taller, and more well-built than me, and he was very reproachful towards my help. "Do you want to die, Shizu-chan?" I asked him, my mouth pressed up against his ear, when we collapsed against the crumbling railing of the balcony as we got closer to the stairs. "Truthfully?"

Shizuo shook his head.

"So help me out here!"

That seemed to hit a nerve. He spiralled into action, suddenly the one to be dragging me along - we tumbled down the stairs; he hit the ground heavily, groaning, and I landed on top of him, my face in his neck. I could sense him fading from consciousness, and I could feel it attacking me, too, but then the heat from the flames lapped at my feet, and I sprung up, hauling Shizuo to his feet. He was unsteady now, his eyes glazed over, tripping over his shoes. I strung his arm over my shoulder, somewhat aware that this was going to make it a lot harder to get out.

Where the _fuck _were my keys.?

I needed to get out.

The fire was downstairs now, having attacked the papers and documents on my desk, and was spreading from there. I felt a small pang of remorse when I saw remnants of my laptop, smouldering in the orange blur, but there wasn't time for that now.

_Where were my keys_?

Suddenly, I spotted them. On the desk, where I'd thrown them. I had to get them. I had to get us out. I reached out with my free hand, straight into the flames, grabbing the melted lump that was my keys.

I screamed in agony, and Shizuo flinched, jerking back to life at the sound I made. This was worse than burning. My fist was literally on fire. There was no way out, other than to go straight through the glass doors. Attacking my shirt with my burning fist in a futile attempt to douse the pain, I hobbled towards the window, supporting Shizuo, and heard him shout out in shock as we flew through the glass.

We seemed to fall in slow motion. Side by side, facing each other, like it was some kind of weird acid trip. Shizuo's glasses fell off his head as we fell, and any other time I would've laughed. He still had one arm over my shoulder, and as we came closer to the concrete pavement, his other arm circled around my torso, over my arms, pulling me closer. I could still feel the skin on my hand, burnt with agony, but as I pressed it into the front of Shizuo's shirt it seemed to feel so much better. Finally, we hit the rough, unkind ground, heads bumping the pavement ruthlessly, and we laid there in silence. Staring at each other, limbs tied together in a messy tangle. I saw his eyes roll into the back of his head as his lids slid closed, and I panicked for a moment, but the steady beat of his heart under my throbbing hand assured me he had just drifted out of consciousness. There was an irritating sound of people shouting and flitting around, and sirens shrieking and wailing, getting louder as they came closer. I closed my eyes, begging my brain to shut it all out. Somewhere I could hear Shinra. Paramedics, fire-fighters, police, and focusing on nothing but the limp body I was attached to, I slowly drifted into painless, welcoming darkness.


	13. Thirteen

_"How can you critisize_

_When you're not here to compromise?"_

_

* * *

_**A.N**: Lonnnng chapter! This seemed to take ages to write. I'm sorry for some OCishness. Please review and help me out if it is...TOO...Ocish. It's only because of hospital induced characteristics XD

* * *

My dreams were confusing. Full of faces and flames and fear. Once face, Shizuo. One flame, my burning apartment. One fear, these horrible, freakish feelings I was finding myself feeling for Shizuo, feelings I was pretty sure he stubbornly returned. Finally, I began to hear voices, some familiar, some new, with sharp accents. I kept my eyes closed, though light was straining through the thin skin of my eyelids. I wanted to stay in the darkness. I didn't want to wake up. I didn't want to know what had happened. I didn't want to go back to this new, weird relationship with Shizuo. Maybe nothing would happen again; maybe I'd never find my lips mashed up with his or my hands on his skin, but my initiative told me that I'd probably do it again. Once I became obsessed with something, it was hard to let go. I already knew that from the past.

I let my eyes flicker open, and I stared up at a milky white ceiling, stained with age and cracked in some places, mainly the corners. There was a small, square light fitting in the centre, but it wasn't switched on. I twisted my head in several directions, trying to get an idea of where I could possibly be. A clear, plastic bag, filled with fluids and dripping into a tube which was attached to a needle in my arm blinked back at me. An oxygen chamber wheezed air into the pipes which I realised were in my nostrils. I looked down at myself, the thin sheets around my chest. I was dressed in a cotton nightshirt, hospital property, and my arms were bandaged in several places, especially my left hand, which I had used to reach into the fire and grab my hopeless keys.

My bed was surrounded by the pale orange glow of a privacy curtain, which I was thankful for, as I began to realise who it was outside the continuities of my "room". Shinra, which probably meant Celty as well.

Celty.

Fuck.

What of her _head?_

If Celty's head burned into cinders then surely she would die.

I chose not to think about it. It's not like I cared, anyway. There were only few things that I seemed to care about, right now. I strained my ears to listen to the conversation Shinra was engaging in with the doctors.

"…Tom rung up this morning and said Shizuo shouldn't come back to work again…he's found someone more suitable. He won't be pleased about that when he wakes up, but there's nothing that can be done, so I'd write down that he's unemployed."

"Am I to understand that you have been treating Shizuo of his substance abuse?" Asked the unrecognisable voice of the doctor. There was a long pause. Of course. Shinra was illegally a doctor, he had no licence. He'd have to choose his words carefully.

"Yes. As a…_retired medic, _I have _tried_ to treat him, but judging by his…strength, and attitude, it hasn't been easy.…"

"What of Izaya?"

I sat up a little straighter at hearing my name.

"Izaya?" Shinra replied. He sounded…cold. I couldn't work out why. "What about Izaya?"

"I am to believe he also has a history of drink and drug abuse, linked to many other psychological problems?"

How did the doctors _know _all of this, when it was Shinra who treated me?

"Yes." There was some shuffling of papers. "Substance abuse, drugs are as listed…drink abuse…the same…which led to many OCD complexes and more."

He was making me sound like I had personality disorders, or something.

"I understand, Shinra-san, that you are not qualified, retired or not, to make these kind of diagnoses? More so treat them yourself."

Once again, there was a long pause.

"They are my friends," Shinra replied finally. "I'll do anything I can to help them. If that means keeping them out of hospital then hell, I shall keep them out of hospital."

I've never respected Shinra more in my life.

"So what about now? Why is this any different?" The doctor pursued.

"They are both suffering high-degree burns, and unfortunately, I can't look after two apparently hormonal, raging maniacs at once. Especially when they don't get along at all."

"I'm willing to keep this private from the authorities, Shinra-san, because of your dedication to these people."

"I'm eternally grateful."

"Do you have any possible explanation as to why Shizuo set the apartment on fire? We have measured it down to Shizuo setting the house alight, correct?"

"Yes. Izaya was very fond of that place. From what I can gather - from what Shizuo managed to tell me when he woke up earlier - he snuck in before Izaya got home, trashed the place got himself drunk and high and doused the entire apartment in gasoline, finally setting it alight."

Ah. Shizuo had left out the part where I accidentally kissed him. Shizuo had left all the accidental kisses out.

"Well, I'm sure we can hear an elaboration on that story later on."

That was my cue. I started shuffling, struggling, trying to sit up without disturbing the drip in my arm or the tubes in my nose. Pain seared through my body when I tried to get into a decent position, so I clenched my teeth and gritted through the aching, until I finally managed to prop myself up against the headboard. I coughed, loudly and deliberately. A shadow appeared behind the curtain, and it whipped back. This revealed a lot more about the hospital, and the room in which I was located. There was another bed next to me, which the curtain only separated me from. Shizuo bound in it, sleeping. I could see Celty, her back to me, sat in the chair next to him. Of course, the two were best of friends - it was sad, really. Shinra was standing over me, flapping about something. The doctor had left, so I focused my attention on him.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Do you want me to get you another pillow? Do you need a drink of anything? Hungry? Tea should be coming around soon but I can get you something now if you like…"

"Shinra," I groaned, screwing my eyes closed. "I'm _fine_."

Shinra breathed out a long sigh. "I'm sorry. It was just…so…I thought I was hallucinating, when Celty and I got to your apartment…and there was just fire everywhere, and you…you both…on the floor…we thought you were dead."

I turned my gaze in Shizuo's direction. He slept on, peacefully, his strong arms folded across his chest, his mouth open slightly. He was bandaged up in some places, but the material wasn't as thick, and he seemed to have more areas of exposed skin than I did. "What about him?"

Shinra looked over at Shizuo as well. "The damage is more internal."

"Ah." The drugs, the drink, all of that.

"Why did he do it?"

I looked back at Shinra. "Huh?"

"Why did he do it? Burn your apartment down, and try to kill you both?"

"He wasn't trying to kill himself, he was just trying to kill _me_, but…he didn't think it through…it went wrong…in a fashion…" my stomach lurched at trying to remember the horrible scene.

"But why? What was his _reason?_"

Did Celty not tell him anything? She'd seen us kissing in that alleyway, before Shizuo burnt my house down. Clearly she'd kept it to herself, or Shinra would have made his own conclusions. I thanked her inwardly, until I realised she probably only did it for Shizuo's benefit.

"Izaya-kun!" Shinra waved his hand over my glazed over eyes, as I'd lost focus. I glared at him. "What happened, Izaya? Why did he burn the house down?"

"I don't know if you've forgotten," I snarled. "But this is Shizu-chan we're talking about, and unless you haven't already noticed, he spends a good percentage of his life trying to murder me!" My voice was getting louder. Shizuo stirred.

"That's not what I mean, Izaya-kun. Shizuo has never killed you before-"

"No shit," I interrupted.

"-and I'm pretty sure he never _would _have murdered you-"

"You are kidding me?"

"-it's just…rivalry."

I nearly screamed. "You don't _understand_, Shinra! You think you know me - you think you know him - you don't know half of what's going on! Shizuo wants to _kill _me, he's always wanted to kill me - though I've always been able to get away - but something else happened…something got in the way…it made him angry, his feelings made him even stronger and more capable of killing me…" my voice trailed off.

"Make me understand? _What_ happened?"

"It's none of your business."

Shinra closed his eyes, and rubbed his temple with one hand. I felt sorry for him - briefly - it wasn't his fault. He wasn't being deliberately nosy, he just wanted to help, to try and create a bigger, more detailed picture, so that he could fix it. Fix us.

Nothing was going to fix this. This internal, mental damage we'd caused.

"Please, Izaya. I only want to help."

"I don't want to talk anymore. It hurts." I closed my own eyes, pain evident on my face. Remembering last night, I could almost physically feel the flames burning at me, the fear and panic that welled up inside me when I saw Shizuo, alone and trapped at the balcony, drugged and drunk off his face with no means of escaping - my apartment or his own head. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to have to tell Shinra everything. It would mean starting from that night in the alleyway - that first night. It was too painful, too private. If people started to know about it, it would just be so much more real. Keeping it like this…like it was just a distant memory in the past…it was almost like a dream.

"Okay. I understand." Shinra sat down in the biggest, comfiest looking chair, and pulled it between Shizuo's bed and my own. "But you may have to tell someone soon."

"I shan't do anything I don't want to, Shinra."

Shinra simply sighed, then he gave an overly joyous noise, which made me snap my eyes open instantly. He'd moved, hovering over Shizuo's bed. I looked over, straining my neck to see over Shinra and Celty, who had also jumped up.

"Move," came Shizuo's gruff voice. My heart did a small leap, and I mentally swatted at it. Shinra backed up, sitting back down on his chair, and Celty did the same thing. I was met with that familiar, cool blue, and a feeling which could only be described as warm tar settled in my stomach. He stared at me for a long time, and I only stared back. No anger, no violence. You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.

I opened my mouth to say something. I wanted to shout at him, scream at him, for burning my apartment, for nearly having me killed. I wanted to climb out of my bed and crawl over there and_ throttle_ him with my own two hands. I wanted to watch him suffer for what he'd done. I wanted to be the cause of his suffering. I wanted…I wanted…

My eyes lingered on his mouth, and I pulled my gaze away quickly, turning my attention to the ceiling. Shinra started talking to Shizuo, but he appeared to have turned mute. When I glanced over again, Shizuo was still staring at me, ignoring Shinra, ignoring Celty. He was entirely in his own head. I wondered how he must feel, right now, after being so high and clogged up with drugs for so long, to finally be clear-headed, and stuck in hospital, with no way of getting a fix.

I knew how it felt.

I must have fallen asleep, although I didn't register it, because when I opened my eyes again, the curtain between Shizuo and I had been drawn, and it was noticeably darker. Also, there was someone new sat by my bed. Namie.

"You're awake?" she muttered, leaning over and peering into my eyes. I groaned, and pushed her back, wincing at the pain that seared through my hand as I did so. "How are you feeling?"

"Don't pretend you care. I suppose you think this is really fucking hilarious, don't you?"

Namie wetted her lips. "Not really. I don't know what to think. What's gotten into you, Izaya?"

Of course. This was all everyone cared about, at the moment. _Why _is Orihara Izaya always getting himself into trouble, this last month or so? Three guesses. Shizuo? Ding-ding-ding.

I decided against inflating my ego, and having a go at her. I felt like I was shrinking. "I…I don't know," I replied quietly, my voice cracking.

She couldn't handle a grown man crying, so she changed her tune before I could leak any mortifying tears. "I have to tell you something." Her voice was icy and stiff as a board, so I snapped my attention to her instantly.

"Go ahead."

"It's about…the…you know…" Namie nodded in the direction of Shinra's voice and the frantic tapping of Celty on her PDA. "The head," she mouthed. I sat up a little straighter. "I took it…the day before yesterday…I don't know why…as a spiteful motion…because you've been acting such a bitch recently…" she paused, her doleful eyes searching my face for any signs of anger, and then lowered her voice to less than a whisper. "It's hidden at my chemist."

I didn't know what to say. Did I thank her, because I was so glad it wasn't burnt to ashes? Did I punch her right in her pretty face, for even _trying _to get one over on me? I just sat there. "Okay," I said finally. "That's okay."

A loud, ringing noise made me flinch. A doctors voice sang out with it. "Visiting time over!" Namie stood up.

"Ah…erm…do you…want me to bring you anything?"

"You don't have to," I replied nonchalantly. "I shall be out of here by tomorrow."

Namie didn't look convinced, but she didn't pursue it further. "Okay then."

I watched Namie leave, and Shinra and Celty stopped at the end of my bed after her. Shinra opened his mouth, but apparently couldn't speak.

"Is he…" I started.

"Asleep," Shinra finished.

"Did you get him to speak to you?" After I'd fallen asleep, I was aware that Shizuo was failing to give Shinra, Celty, or any of the doctors a response. They said he was failing, I was pretty sure he was just refusing.

"No," Shinra replied.

"Ah."

"If you…if he's awake…and your awake…try to…try not to start anything…get into any fights or anything…"

I clenched my fists. "Me? Start something?" I sounded like a pre-schooler. Shinra held up his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay. I don't like that you're both on ward together, _alone _at that, but the doctors want to keep you together so that they can perform the same check-ups."

"I don't care."

"Visiting time over!" Rang out the female doctor's voice again, and she appeared at the door. "That means you two, Shinra-san!"

Shinra and left instantly. The door shut behind them, carefully, leaving me. I felt alone, even though I knew Shizuo was behind the curtain that separated our beds, and I could hear him breathing, the sound amplified by the noise of the oxygen machine. I hated hospitals. I hated how I could _smell _the typical hospital smell, everywhere. Like a mixture of disinfectant, chlorine and chicken soup. I hated the orange plastic chairs and the squeaky sound that the polished black shoes the nurses wore made on the non-slip floors. I hated that I was stuck here, and couldn't get out if I tried. If I _did _manage to hobble all the way over to the door, there'd be about twenty ward nurses outside, and even I couldn't battle against two-dozen women, equipped with needles, thermometers and other horrible hospital artefacts.

Plus, if I made a scene, they'd probably shut me off from everyone. Put a cage around my bed or something.

Was I being stupid?

* * *

"Ah..oh…"

I could feel myself waking up, but I didn't want to.

"Ahh…I…"

That wasn't me, making that sound. I was still dreaming.

"Hh…"

What _was _that? I brought my less-burned hand to my face and rubbed at my eyes, staring into darkness. It was late. The nurse had long since come and turned the lights out on the ward.

"Shit…"

It was Shizuo. Obviously. Who else would it be, there was no-one else sharing this room. Was he hurt? I looked up at the red button above my head. If it were pressed, it would send a buzz to the nurses office and they'd have to come and help. Shizuo had one of these buttons too, he could press it if he were in any pain.

"Nngh…ah…"

I strained my ears. Was he…?

"Ahhhzaya.."

I raised my eyebrows, and started sitting up, very slowly, quietly and carefully. I still hurt, in places, and I didn't want him to hear me. I wanted to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. I _was _hearing this.

"Zaya…Izaya…"

Me. Why me? I peeled back the sheets, cold air hitting my legs, and listened again. Had he heard me? Had he shut up now, sinking into the pillows to drown in his own embarrassment?

"Ahh.."

No. I gritted my teeth and pulled the needle out of my arm and the tube out of my nose. Holding my arms out to balance myself, I stood up on my own two feet. It hurt, fuck it hurt, but it felt better than lying down constantly. I needed to see this for myself. I needed to see that Shizuo _needed _me. I edged over to the curtain, Shizuo's voice not fading or silencing, and with a breath, I yanked the curtain back.

Shizuo was hunched over himself, his hand under the sheets, clutching at his own junk. He had his other hand to his mouth, a futile attempt at shutting himself up, and his eyes were huge, wide, staring right at me. Mortified. I stared back at him, surprised, so surprised at having caught Shizuo in such a vulnerable, child-like position. He looked hurt. He looked _terrified_.

"Shizuo…"

"You heard…" he said at the same time.

I didn't know how to respond. "You said my name."

"That's not the first time."

My feet were walking towards him before I could stop myself. I inwardly groaned, exasperated. I'd done it now. I'd never be able to go back to the Orihara Izaya I knew and loved so well. He looked at me, questioningly, as I kneeled by his bed, and took his face in my palm.

"You burnt your hand," he said simply, looking at the excessive bandaging on my left hand.

"Yes," I replied, and leaned in, closer, until our foreheads bumped. He didn't pull away, or push at me.

"What have we done?" He asked, his blue eyes flittering across mine.

"I don't know." I pressed closer, letting my eyes fall closed, until my lips met his. I felt his hand sliding over my shoulder, to my back, gripping the back of my nightshirt and pulling me up. I staggered to my feet, bent over, never leaving his mouth, and clambered into his bed, careful to avoid the wires and tubes attaching him to various tanks and drips. His tongue danced with mine, and I whimpered into his mouth as his nails raked my back through my nightshirt. This wasn't about me. This was about him. That was the only thought surging through my head as my only usable hand left his face and ran down his chest, feeling all that heat beneath my fingers. All that strength. His abdominal muscles contracted as my fingers pressed against his stomach, lower, lower. He'd said my name. It was my fault. I wanted to fix this for him.

"Izaya," he breathed into my mouth. I only kissed him harder. "You shouldn't. I don't want…"

"Is that true?" I replied as my hand neared his nether regions dangerously. "You don't want me to?"

He didn't reply. Instead, he gave an agonising cry as I took him in my hand, as if I'd hurt him, and I stopped quickly.

"What…are you…" I muttered, nuzzling my face into his neck as he breathed quickly, fast paced.

"Sorry…I'm…"

"Calm down," I instructed, letting my hand go to work. "Just relax…"

He breathed out deeply, and his arm tightened around my back, pulling me closer into him. It hurt like hell, to have him clutching at me like a lifeline. The burns on my body ached and streamed, but I didn't care. I had to finish this, even though this was so wrong. This was _diabolical_. I hated him so much, and here I was, rubbing his junk in a hospital bed. He buried his face into my hair, moaning into the top of my head as my ministrations grew faster, as he grew closer to his end.

"Izaya…Izaya…we've done it now, Izaya…"

He was right, of course. He could try and try again to murder me after this, but I knew as well as he did, that it'd never happen. I caught his orgasm in my hand as he shrieked my name, and I kissed his neck gently. We'd been tracing the line between loving to hate the other, and hating to love the other, and this was the final straw. We'd finally crossed, except, I didn't _love _Shizuo. _Love _was a strong word. What we had, before this, was an intense obsession, and it had finally malformed into something new, something lusty and tearing us apart.

"Oh my God," came a familiar voice from the door. When I looked up, I saw the bespectacled face of Shinra in the door, but before either of us could think of anything to say, he'd gone.


	14. Fourteen

**A.N:** Finally! Drum roll please! I am updating! Don't expect this to be regular though. My time is sparse, I don't have much of it.

* * *

Weeks passed. _Months_ passed. I had the money to buy a new place, a better place, a bigger place. I had the motivation to get out of the hospital straight away all those weeks ago, as I had ensured Namie. I had the idiocy to form a false, completely fake relationship with said person. I needed the comfort of having someone there. I needed the stability that Namie could provide. Namie knew the relationship was a sham, she didn't care. She got more money for it, for putting on a huge show of affection for me in public and for sharing my bed when I needed it. I needed something else. I needed something other than…

I didn't even say his name anymore. I didn't go into his part of town anymore. I stuck to my business. I paid off my bills. I carried on life as normal, as if the whole situation with him had never even happened. I was an Informant, and life was going to carry on just that way.

I liked my new home. It was right in the centre of town, just where I wanted to be. My last apartment was a little way off, still in the city, just not directly. Now I was right in the middle of a block, I could see straight up two streets from both ends of my apartment, and both ends of the street that my home was situated in. Namie seemed to like it here too. She had her own bedroom, kitchenette and bathroom, as well as a walk-in-wardrobe with a separate shoe closet (she didn't even have that many shoes, or took that much of an interest in them). She also had her own designated office (which the last time I looked in, was a complete pigsty and full of shit), which she spent a great deal of time in, claiming she was doing 'work'. Bullshit. I was her work, and recently, the only things I needed her to do, was to be a mindless, faceless piece of pussy, or go out and fetch me milk. Shinra came round occasionally, with Celty. It was an unspoken rule that they didn't mention him, or anything that happened during that short month. _He _was off the drugs now, off the alcohol, back to work. He wasn't working for Tom anymore, but acting the bodyguard for an underground Mafia dealer (probably the same one that I owed money to). He probably got more money for it. I didn't know. I didn't really care.

I didn't know all this from Celty or Shinra telling me, it was my great housing position in the middle of the city. I'd seen him. It was hard for me not to spot him, I spent a great deal of my time standing in front of my full sized, double glazed windows, my stomach turning when I caught a glimpse of blonde hair, or a flick of a cigarette.

But no. Shinra and Celty were forbidden from speaking of that wretched month of my life. I don't know whether they just stopped, or whether Shinra alerted Namie on what he had caught us doing in that hospital bed, and Namie insisted that they all just pretend it had never happened, but whatever they planned, it worked. Some days, on my happiest days, it was just a faded dream, a monochrome print on my memory.

Then I would spot him in town and my fragile walls would come crashing down. Bastard.

Shinra was round today, unusually, without Celty. I had been out running some errands, and came back to find Shinra here in my apartment, sat at my dining table, with my girlfriend (I managed to hold back a snort) serving him tea. "Hello Shinra," I beamed with unnecessary emphasis. "What brings you here?" I awkwardly placed an arm around Namie's shoulders. She struggled to prevent herself from looking disgusted, which left her with a slightly constipated expression. Shinra raised an eyebrow. It was unusual for him not to lap it up, clap with excitement and demand a wedding invitation. I let go of Namie. She breathed out.

"It's Shizuo." Shinra said with a stoic expression. I froze, even though I'd seen it coming. Namie glanced at me. "He…"

"What? What has he done? What is it about him that is so desperately needs to come all the way across Ikebukuro, to my new fucking apartment, to hit me in the ears?" I yelled.

"Maybe you should leave," Namie ushered Shinra.

"Shut the fuck up Namie," I spun around to her. "Maybe you _both _should just get out! Get out!" I roared, flaring up at them both. "I don't need Shizuo! I don't need anything to do with fucking Shizuo! I just got him out of my life! I just got my life _back_!" I turned back to Namie. "I certainly don't need _you_ anymore! Get out! Both of you get out!" I reached into the pocket of my coat and grabbed my knife, flicking out the blade and pointing it at Shinra, then at Namie. They both scuttled out of my apartment like rats, and as Shinra pulled the door closed behind him, I lobbed my knife at the wood. I needed it all out. I needed everything back to how it was – everything back to being only about me. I started by clearing Namie out.

I threw the door open to her office and emptied her drawers. Perfume, nail files, an old coin purse – everything. I went into her bedroom and stripped her sheets. I yanked her clothes off the hangers in her fucking shitty walk-in-wardrobe, one by one by one by one. Then I threw it all in a bin bag and left it on her bed, shutting the door on that room. It was no longer 'Namie's room'. It was just a fucking room.

* * *

Now I needed something to do. I went out. It was six o clock and getting dark but I didn't care, I didn't sleep a lot anyway. I stalked the streets, hands in my pockets, until I found a teenage girl, standing alone, playing with the cat-shaped charm on her pink mobile phone. She was facing the floor, her hair hanging over her eyes. She looked sad. I sidled next to her. "What's your name."

"I don't talk to strangers," the girl hastily replied. She stuffed her phone into her pocket and turned her back on me, walking away hurriedly. She knew who I was. I could see it in her violet eyes.

"I'm not a stranger. I'm Orihara Izaya. There, you know who I am now. So what's your name?" She continued to ignore me, walking a little faster. "Come on, talk to me. I can see you're sad. Maybe I can help. Is it a boy? Family? Friends?"

"Go away," she muttered, very quietly, but I heard it.

"Come, now, let me help yo—" I was cut off as the girl let out a high pitched scream, as a _vroom_ and an audible neighing sound hit me. The Black Rider was on her bike in front of the girl, and she propped herself steady with one leg on the ground, and took out her PDA.

_[Leave this girl alone, Izaya.]_

I snorted. "This is _work_, Celty, mind your own business." The teenage girl was starting to sneak away, around Celty's bike, and I strode past to catch up with her. Celty stuck her PDA in my face.

_[We have business. Important business.]_

I groaned, watching as the girl broke into a run and sped off down the road. "What? Shizuo? I don't care. What does it have to do with me? At all?"

_[A lot, actually.]_

"Why?"

_[Come with me.]_


	15. Fifteen

_Love is objectified, by what men say is right,_

_Schei__β__e schei__β__e be mine, bullshit be mine. _

* * *

As I tailed Celty down the darkening streets of Ikebukuro, I thought back to my life here, all my effort and work. I wasn't a nice person, but I enjoyed my job. I still enjoy my job. I smiled to myself. I remembered something I said to someone once.

"_You're not so special. Everyone's the same."_

Was that true? Were all human beings the same? Was _Shizuo _the same as that pitiful girl whose life I played into my own hands? It was true, I spent a lot of time playing with Shizuo, and he almost always was easily predictable, as was the general population of Ikebukuro. But was he really the same? Did I see him in the same light?

A cigarette butt on the ground swarmed into my view. Someone sped past me, wearing tinted sunglasses. A flash of blue from a passing car. A vending machine with its dancing colours in front of me. A hint of blonde from some peroxide bimbo. All these things ensured me that Shizuo was _not _the same. Why else would I notice all of these aspects of life?

I seemed to be moving at such a slow pace, which felt foreign to me. I never went slow, life for me just wasn't slow paced. I was crawling, trudging, wading along like I was stuck in sludge, whilst otherwise the world sped around me, everything carrying on as normal as I stayed stuck in this time warp. I shuddered at the thought.

Celty's bike screeched to a halt. I looked up. We were at Shinra's apartment. I wasn't surprised. The Rider turned around to me and held up her PDA.

_[Here.]_

"At your apartment?" I raised my eyebrows.

_[Yes. Please come in.]_

I followed Celty, and suddenly—

"IZAYA! STAY OUT OF IKEBUKURO!"

I blinked, and narrowly jumped out of the way of an oncoming trash can. _Narrowly_. I hardly ever used to avoid him _narrowly_. I realised how long it had been since Shizuo had actually thrown anything at me. As another large, rectangular object came crashing down half a metre away from me, Shinra darted out of the apartment, looking distraught. "C-Celty! Shizuo, he was meant to be sleeping, and—arrgh!" Shinra yelped and jumped out of the way of another oncoming bin. Dust cleared and I finally – unfortunately – caught a glimpse of him. His sunglasses were missing, his face twisted with anger. He wasn't wearing his usual bartender getup – just a plain white shirt and dark trousers. It reminded me of when we were in high school. I didn't have much chance to reminisce, as he lunged towards me, intent to kill, and I only just had time to reach for my knife and slice it across his chest, ripping open his shirt. I'd not expected that to happen. I swallowed the lump in my throat as Shizuo backed up, his hand over the cut on his chest. Celty roared up in front of Shizuo to prevent him from diving out at me again, and Shirna ushered him back inside. I snarled at Celty as she stood back to allow me to follow, and turned in the opposite direction, with the full intent of going straight back home. I hadn't psyched myself up for this meeting, not one bit. I realised then, I wanted Namie back. Just so that I wouldn't have felt the need to follow Celty here.

She tapped me on the shoulder. _[Please, Izaya-san. It's important you try and speak with Shizuo. He's…ill.]_

I rolled my eyes. "He's a chronic drug addict and an alcoholic. That's not ill."

_[You would know.]_

"Yes. Yes I would."

_[Tell me, Izaya, have you been drinking and drug abusing again in the time that you and Shizuo have been separated?]_

"Does that have anything to do with the current issue at hand?"

_[It might.]_

I wanted to grab her stupid fucking helmet and smash it into the ground. "Just tell me what the _fuck _is going on, why the _fuck _I need to be here, and then maybe I'll think about going in there." I waited. Celty was already tapping on her PDA.

_[When you got up and left the hospital that morning Shizuo was in a horrific state. His head hasn't been right, not with all the drinking and the drugs, and with him coming down cold turkey because he was in hospital he was even more delusional. He thought that the thing that you and him were doing in the hospital was a hallucination, even though you'd left your mess and it was obvious that you had been there, and there was the proof of Shinra catching you in the act. We tried to explain all of this to him with the intention of well, hopefully making him better, making him see sense and try to fit it all properly in his brain, that it was just a silly mistake between the both of you, the fact that he had so much hate built up for you that….something else kind of took its place. We tried to explain all of this, but he was just too angry to listen.] _I read the message slowly. Before I could respond, she was typing again. _[We could tell he was getting ill…he stopped eating, Shinra didn't predict that. He had to come and live with us, he's not drinking or doing drugs anymore…but he's just…ill…up here..]_ Celty tapped the side of her helmet. _[Shizuo needs to come back down to earth. He's got no job, Tom doesn't trust him anymore, he's got no money, we can't financially support another fully grown man when Shinra and myself only already get limited amounts of pay. Particularly seeing as I am usually employed by yourself, and you haven't really been up to scratch yourself lately. We deemed it would be best if you came and spoke to Shizuo, to explain to him why you both have been acting the way you have. Or at least how you yourself have been acting, if you can't work out why Shizuo has.]_

"I have no idea myself—" I started, then realised that I didn't want to go into detail to Celty. I looked at the floor. "I want to go back to normal. I want everything to go back to normal. Rumours are spreading, no one looks at me in the same way anymore. I want the people of Ikebukuro to _fear _me again like they used to do. I'm not a joke. _This _isn't a joke. I'm sure Shizuo feels the same. We are very alike in that respect."

_[You're wrong.I don't think anyone knows what Shizuo is thinking. Shizuo is not proud of being feared in Shinjuku, Izaya.]_

I ignored her. "I'll come up there, but if he lays, or attempts to lay one hit on me, I'm going and that's it."

Celty nodded, and made her way up the steps to their apartment. I followed, silently, my knife still clutched in my hand, my guard up high. As we stepped into the apartment, the first thing I clapped eyes on was Shizuo, behind the glass wall that housed Shinra's small, secret hospital room. He was sat on the bed, glaring at me with his eyes ablaze, teeth bared. A wolf. And I was little red fucking riding hood. The thought alone was enough to make me laugh, but I held it back. I'd realised a long time ago that this wouldn't be the time to enrage Shizuo.

He really did look sick. Despite his menacing facial expression, his hair was thinner, his brown roots showing through starkly. His physique seemed to have degraded a lot, but he had proven earlier on that he was still capable of lifting anything the weight of a small lorry and hurling it. Shinra broke my train of thought by holding out a pot of tea in my direction. "No thanks," I responded, waving the kettle away. I walked towards the glass paned room, watching as Shinra grew more and more angry looking. As soon as I stepped into the room, I felt Celty shove her palm into my back and push me past the door. She slammed the door behind me, and I heard the lock click. I spun around and grabbed the door handle, but it was too late. "Celty! Shinra! Shinra you bastard!" I roared. Through the glass window I watched as Shinra looked at me apologetically before pulling the white curtains across the windows, until the only person I was left with was Shizuo.

"Why have you come here?" he yelled, grabbing the nearest object within his reach; a desk lamp. He swung it at me, and I ducked out of the way automatically. This dance continued for a good ten minutes, Shizuo getting out of his seat and following me around the room with the lamp, hurling it at me as I dove and pranced out of the way. "Stop trying to mess with me! I thought I'd gotten rid of you!"

I grabbed the door handle again. I wasn't cut out for this. "Celty! Let me the fuck out! I'm not in the mood for this—ARGH!" I held back a girlish scream as the lamps bulb smashed against my skull. I bent double, clutching my head as I tried to regain my senses, but before I could, Shizuo had me by the throat, holding me up against the door. My feet hung helplessly, suspended about thirty centimetres from the ground. I grabbed Shizuo's hand which circled my throat so tightly, gasping and choking in his face. "Come on now—Shizzy-chan—there's no need—"

"What?" He roared, spit spraying in my face. "No need for what?"

"Celty—Celty told me—she told me you were" I coughed, desperately trying to get air into my lungs. "That you were—sick."

"Liar! You're just here to poison me!"

"It's nothing to do with me getting into your head, dumbass!" I snarled, kicking out at Shizuo. I caught him in the crotch and he gasped, dropping me instantly. My backside hit the ground roughly and I groaned, rubbing my temples and jumping back to my feet.

"You're just trying to mess with me." Shizuo held up his fists, and I pointed my blade at him in response.

"I am not trying to _mess_ with _you_!" I yelled. "You started all of this when you cornered me and tried to get off with me!" I slashed out with my knife, narrowly catching him across the cheek. He backed up, cupping his face, then lunged out at me with his fist, which I managed to dodge.

"You're a liar! It's all lies! None of that stuff—" he launched another punch at me and I ducked narrowly—"ever fucking happened!"

"Why would you imagine it? How could I possibly know any of this, if it all was just a big, fucking trip in your sick, perverted little mind?" I thrust my knife out again, and he leapt back.

"Perhaps you told Celty or Shinra," he said without thinking. I cackled, and leaned forward, flicking him hard and deliberately on the forehead. He winced, looking patronised.

"I…no…of course not!" his face flushed a deep purple colour. I spun around on the sput, my arms in the air.

"So you _get it_, Braniac!" I clapped manically. He turned away from me.

"It's still your fault," he murmured. I shook my head in disgust and continued banging on the door. He put his head in his hands and groaned. "Just get out."

"In case you haven't noticed, Shinra and his bitch headless girlfriend have _locked us in here_!" I landed another loud thump on the wooden door. Shizuo looked back to face me, glaring, yet I could see that he was racking his last brain cell to find something clever to say.

"Well. You usually find a way to sneak out," he glanced around at the single door and the lack of windows, realisation sinking in. I raised my eyebrows. "I guess we're stuck together until you're let out." I put my face in my hands.

"Yes, Shizu-chan, yes we are."

* * *

**A.N:** This was half written as an RP between myself and Reality-Or-Dream. Maybe there'll be smut next chapter-who knows me and Bethany haven't got that far yet. XD REVIEW PLZS


	16. Sixteen

_Whenever I start feeling strong, I'm called a bitch in the night. _

_But I don't need these fourteen carat guns to win I am a woman I insist it's my life. _

* * *

**A.N**: Short chapter for now. Will get better!

* * *

After what I assumed was a few moments, I opened my eyes, and blinked up at the clock; it read 3AM. Four hours since I arrived here. I must've fallen asleep. Time does fly by. Time. I felt eyes on me, and I looked up at Shizuo, who was staring at me, hatred still evident in his eye.

"What?" I muttered, focusing on a piece of fluff on the floor. To say Shinra valued himself as one of the best doctors in Shinjuku he certainly didn't do a great job of keeping the place well sanitised. Shizuo was still glaring at me. I glared straight back. "You look like shit. When are you going to have a shower? Maybe having some omega or fish in your diet might increase your chances of having some more brain cells and you might realise this," I glanced around his eyes, too see if my words were hitting any nerves. A vein in his temple twitched, and he instinctively launched a dinner tray at me, dinner and all. A half chewed egg sandwich collided with my forehead. I wanted to gip.

"Why do you care about me anyway?" Shizuo shot back.

I got to my feet, rubbing my forehead where the sandwich hit me. I maintained keeping my facial expression sarcastic and smirky, but I wanted desperately to scream at him. "Why—no wait, _what_ gives you the impression that I _care _about you? Oh, sorry…" I grinned cruelly, not giving myself the chance to think about what I was about to say next. "Is that your dirty imagination speaking? You know, that part that keeps trying to get off with me?" I clapped a hand over my mouth as soon as the words left my tongue. Why did I say that? What propelled me to say that? Why did I even have to bring that up?

A reddish-pink flush spread across Shizuo's nose and cheeks. It was interesting to see colour rising in his face, a different emotion so quickly appearing on his otherwise angry exterior. I never got embarrassed, hardly ever, not on the outside anyway. "I…what…" he paused, searching around his empty head for fresh words. "Why would I want to do anything with you? Why would anyone want to have sex—"

"I didn't mention that." On the inside, I could feel my own blush appearing, but when I caught my reflection in the mirror on the opposite side of the room, there was no colour in my face. I was inwardly relieved. "How awkward, Shizzy-chan."

"This is you getting into my head again!" Shizuo screeched suddenly, making me flinch slightly—very slightly, mind you. I ducked out of the way of a medicine bottle that hurtled my way. It shattered against the door. I wondered if Celty or Shinra would hear it and come and let me out before Shizuo gave me another black eye. I heard no footsteps in the tiny pause that Shizuo was quiet. "Stop it! Just fucking stop it! You're crazy! I hate you!" He grabbed another bottle, the familiar anger reappearing in his face, his embarrassment vanishing. I darted forwards and grabbed both of his wrists, yanking him off the hospital bed and bashing my forehead deliberately and painfully against his.

"Listen. To. Me!" I hissed into his face. I realised suddenly how much in close proximity we were with one another. I decided to ignore it. "_You _cornered me in a dark alley one fateful night when you were drunk, and _you_ started acting all weird! Then you realised what the fuck was wrong with you and you started binging on alcohol and drugs and then you went too far and blew up my apartment, then I wanked you off in the hospital. Then I left and tried to get on with my life. Then_ Shinra_ brought me back here." I smacked my head repeatedly against his, ignoring the burning pain it was causing my temples. "When. Will. You. Get it!" Hearing my voice, my own voice, saying all this stuff out loud made me realise just how fucked up everything was. When it was all quiet and a dirty little horrible secret, there was almost _some _sense to be made of it. I didn't understand any part of this, and I _always_ understood _everything_. Maybe Shizuo was right. Maybe I was crazy. "Speak to me!" I hissed. "You've ruined everything I spent so long to become!" I was right. My well thought out persona, right down to the very last smirk and hiss and snigger and flick of my blade, all of it was disintegrating before my eyes, all because of Shizuo. "Fucking speak!"

Shizuo stared at me sullenly, his eyes dark. "What do you want me to say?"

I froze, my head stuck to Shizuo's, his piercing blue orbs an inch away from my own scarlett eyes. "What do I want you to say…I…I don't know…"

"What do you want me to do?" He replied in the same monotonous voice. "How do you want this to play out?

I pulled my gaze away from his. "I don't know. You're sick."

"Maybe. But maybe it's not me. Maybe it's _you_."

I stared at the floor, dumbfounded, thinking of something to say. "Why on earth would I be—" but when I looked up at his face, sullen, serious, static expression running from head to toe, I understood. Or did I? I wasn't quite sure. What was I saying about always understanding everything?

"Let's go out for a drink," Shizuo said, so quietly I almost didn't catch it.

"Excuse me?"

"I can't talk here. _We_ can't talk here. The environment it's just so…" Shizuo glanced around at the blank white walls, the silver cabinets, and the pointless green flowerpot that housed no plant on the floor. "Tense."

"I don't go _out_ for _drinks_."

"Well make one fucking exception then!" Shizuo yelled. He started pulling off the remainder of his shirt, and threw it in the bin (seeing as I'd torn it earlier with my knife). He turned around and started rooting around in the drawer under the hospital bed. My eyes lingered on his spine, the muscles in his back flexing and contracting with every slight moment. As he turned back to me, I twisted on the spot and suddenly found the doorhandle extremely interesting. "I can't stay here. I need to relax."

"You're not allowed to drink!" I hissed. "Remember?"

"I'll have coke then."

"We can't get out of here." I scavenged my head for another excuse. _Going out _with Shizuo was a recipe for disaster. Being _seen _in _public _with Shizuo…the reaction from the audience would probably be extraordinary and I'd love to see that but I frankly couldn't deal with that amount of attention on me alone. Also, dealing with Shinra, Celty, and whatever other idiots they find, following us around all night, potentially dragging Shizuo back to this bloody clinic, and probably me as well, seeing as Celty seems to have the idea that I'm hooked on drugs as well (_[Tell me, Izaya, have you been drinking and drug abusing again in the time that you and Shizuo have been separated?]), _and then, there was the inevitable. Shizuo would have one coke, maybe too, then realise he wanted something different. I'd have no way of stopping him, hell, maybe I'll even be driven into having something alcoholic too. Then, then we'd both be drunk, and with the pair of us driven crazy by desire we'd probably end up going to my new apartment and then, _then _the inevitable would happen.

What was I thinking?

Of course that wouldn't happen. I wasn't going to let it happen. I valued my pride.

Which is why Shizuo was going to _stay here_, and I was going to leave, and live my life. For the second time. As soon as this thought crossed my mind, I realised that Shizuo was pulling the door off its hinges.


	17. Seventeen

**A.N: **I'm so bad not updating for so long! Thank you for all the reviews! Keep them coming!

* * *

Shinra was yelping in the background and Celty was tap-tap-tapping away on her PDA while Shizuo flung the door to the ground. The poor, bewildered doctor held his palms up, trying to stop Shizuo in his movements, but he grabbed my wrist instead and began yanking me towards the exit. "Please Shizuo, just wait, I'm sorry we shut you up in there, it was the wrong thing to do—"

"SHUT UP!" Shizuo bellowed in Shinra's face. Even Celty backed up. I didn't say anything, just watched the scenario unfolding before me. "You know I don't like being locked up! You know I don't like being shut in a room with this—" He pulled my arm up so I was kind of almost suspended by my wrist. I muttered something in annoyance under my breath. "You know how dangerous this is Shinra!"

"I know, I know, it was stupid, it was just a thought, a test you know, how if you shut two dogs in a roo—"

"—what?" Shizuo replied, unusually quietly. "What did you say? _Dogs_?!"

"It was silly, completely the wrong thing to say..." Shinra was pushing his glasses up with one hand and fiddling with his sleeve with the other.

"Whatever! I'm out of here!" Shizuo bawled, pushing past the doctor.

"Wait! Where?"

"For a fucking drink! Leave it!" Within a few moments we were out of the apartment and into the street, Shizuo still hauling me along the sidewalk.

"You know, you can let go of me now, Shizuo," I muttered. He threw my arm out of his grip, and I stopped briefly, rubbing my wrist. I peered up at him through my eyelashes. His face was tinged red, seemingly from the anger, and his fists were clenched. He was grinding his teeth and staring ahead of him, focusing on some spot in the distance. "Come on then," I said quietly. "Let's go for this damn drink."

* * *

We ended up in a very small bar closer to my end of town. Neither of us really spoke, just stared at the bottoms of our glasses. It was extremely awkward. All we were doing was screaming silently, stuck in our thoughts.

How had this happened? How had our hatred overcome us and leaked into something else? How was it that now, instead of boiling anger, I felt something else bubbling deep within me? I sighed and rubbed my temple. I didn't understand. I wasn't the kind of person who fell in love. That kind of stuff was never in my vocabulary. Was never something I thought about. Was never the kind of thing that I planned to do with my life. Or even involve in my life. I didn't think I was capable of having such feelings or thoughts. I dared to sneak a look at Shizuo.

Oh Shizuo. His soft blonde hair falling into his deep blue eyes. His eyelashes, brown and perfectly separated. His skin, creamy coloured with a light dusting of freckles across his nose. The soft pink tinge staining his cheeks. His large, calloused hands clasped in front of him. He was perfect. He was a monster, but a perfect one. Why had I never looked at him this way before. Why had I never noticed how...how beautiful he was?

What the fuck is wrong with me? I shook my head hard, determined to get the putrid thoughts out of my head. I was _Orihara Izaya_, for fucks sake. I didn't...I didn't do this...what was the point? For the weeks this had been happening I'd been puffing out my chest and exclaiming who I was and what I did and didn't do. It didn't stop the little, niggling person inside me that wanted to dive on Shizuo and feel those lips again. A breath escaped my mouth, and his head turned to face me. Oh, _Shizuo. _This time I really couldn't break the gaze. I could practically feel the electric current between us, hear it buzzing loud in my ears. Everything else seemed nonexistent. All I could hear, see, feel and smell was Shizuo.

"What's happened to us?" Shizuo whispered. His eyes were big, blue and wobbling slightly with moisture. "What have we become?"

"I don't know," I replied, slightly shocked at how my voice shook and cracked. I dropped my gaze to his lips, plush and pink and parted a little. I felt myself automatically leaning forward.

"Izaya," Shizuo muttered. I stopped, and suddenly all the sounds of the bar came back. The group of underage kids in the corner playing a loud drinking game. The old lady that stunk of cigarette smoke talking to herself a bit further down the bar. The bartender, rubbing a glass repeatedly with a grubby rag. That same bartender was staring at us, his eyebrow raised. "Let's get out of here."

"Yes," I breathed. I slid off my barstool and Shizuo took my wrist, dragging me out of the bar. I could feel his tight grip on my skin but this time I wasn't complaining. I could hear the blood pounding in my ear as he pulled me into a small alley next to the bar. It was raining, hard, but neither of us seemed to notice. He pushed me into the wall, but this time he was careful, considerate. He stroked my hair with one hand and cupped my chin, his forehead pressing against mine, gazing straight into my eyes.

"What is happening..." He asked again. "What are we doing, Izaya?"

"I don't know...Shizzy-chan...I don't..." I ached for his mouth on mine. In the next breath, he gave it to me, his lips crushing into mine. I whined appreciatively. It was even better than I'd been dreaming for the last few hours. He was warm and strong. He wrapped his arms around me, encircling me, kissing me harder than before. The rain kept coming down. I could feel his wet hair dripping into my eyes, but we kept kissing. Just kissing. I could practically hear fireworks and choirs singing. My palms pressed into the damp fabric of his shirt, wrapped around his neck, my fingers stroking the soft skin there. He gasped into my mouth, and my tongue crept in the stroke his. I felt amazing. I felt like we were the only people in the world. Like nothing else even mattered. It was just the two of us here, sharing this moment. It didn't matter that we were Shizuo and Izaya, who _hated _each other. It didn't matter about Shinra, or Celty or Namie. It was us.

Finally, we pulled apart for air. I stared into his eyes, waiting for him to remember, to freak out, to accuse me of getting into his head. He stared at me too, and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing. After what seemed like a lifetime, he spoke. "Let's stay at your place."

"My...my place..."I murmured. "Okay. Yes, okay."

* * *

**A.N: **Okay guys I really don't know where to go with this story and I really don't want to leave it! I think I need some of your fabulous help to get me to finish it! what do you say? If anyone is up for working on this fic with me, send me a private message and we'll get some ideas stirring. Thank you my lovelies!


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